


Secret Santa

by bblamentation, EmiAliceinWonderland



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Spoilers, Multi, Post-The Raven King, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bblamentation/pseuds/bblamentation, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmiAliceinWonderland/pseuds/EmiAliceinWonderland
Summary: A month before Christmas, Henry suggests the Gangsey should play Secret Santa and so gifts will be bought and made to be gifted on December 24th: fluff and friendship ensues.





	1. Rules

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a long co-written piece Emi and I have been working on for almost a month now. We're excited to share this fic with you and will be posting regularly (roughly 3 days between). For the first five chapters we wrote individually whilst the last two are fully co-written.
> 
> A quick but massive thanks to Emi for helping me write this because I don't think I could've gotten far and we would've gotten half the ideas that have come about. We also might've gotten carried away but oh well.

**RULES**

  * Each person participating in the gift exchange must have their name written and placed in a hat (or other device used for lucky dips)


  * Once all names have been placed, each person must choose a name from the hat (or other device used for lucky dips)


  * If someone chooses their own name, have everyone replace all the names back and choose again


  * No one should share who they are gifting nor should ask who will be gifting to them.


  * There is a monetary cap of $15 (no more should be spent no matter how sweet they are) -- this also includes making a present and not just for purchasing a present


  * Participants are still free to make/give gifts to others if they so wish but shouldn’t really take away from Secret Santa



 

**Additional Notes:**

Note: Chainsaw cannot take part as no one wants to receive worms.

Note: Henry shouldn’t be a dick to beautiful creatures!

Note: Gansey is a dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And when it came down to the final draws each looked at the small scrap of paper in their hands:
> 
> Henry Cheng → Ronan Lynch  
> Richard Gansey III → Henry Cheng  
> Ronan Lynch → Richard Gansey III  
> Adam Parrish → Blue Sargent  
> Blue Sargent → Adam Parrish
> 
> A mixture of confusion and excitement filled the living room at the Barns.


	2. Henry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry labours in his thoughts on what he could possibly gift to Ronan Lynch...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Lady_Monochromic

In reality, Henry only had himself to blame. On a late night at the Barns, discussions of how the holidays would be spent had sprouted Henry’s eagerness to play one of his traditions with his favourite people: Secret Santa. Traditionally, Henry had used the little game as a way of excusing himself from the difficulty of gifting his past friends. The Vancouver boys had seemed to enjoy gifting and receiving gag-gifts but Henry had always watched their faces with a pressed smile. Henry needed a change to that tradition, especially just in wanting to watch and feel elated when Gansey would brighten in thanks and Blue would be able to appreciate the sentiment.

Henry’s suggestion had earned an intrigued agreement from Gansey and an easy shrug from Blue whilst Adam and Ronan stared at him strangely either from being included in Henry’s game or digesting the thought that there was something more than gift exchanging with their dear friends. It was then that Henry had been adamant that the point of secret santa was in the anonymity and mystery, and that meant a ban on choosing whom to gift though Henry guessed they each would be giving their significant other (or in three cases: others) either way.

On the first go, Henry had luckily pulled out Gansey’s name, beaming inside that he could do something for worth but his thoughts on the stars he would give the king were for nought when Blue seemed to have easily chosen her own name. Reshuffling the scraps of paper on the floor followed and it took two more turns before Ronan picked a scrap of paper and handed it to Blue lest she chose her name again. Blue confirmed she had one of the boys’ name with a nod and a small smile, allowing the rest of the boys to choose. Their game started with a round of accepting nods and curious hums, except Henry merely stared at his paper with a sigh that his observations over his time at Aglionby may not be enough.

Four days had already passed since Henry had plucked the scrap of paper scrawled with the name, Ronan Lynch, and had determinedly scribbled the title ‘Gift Ideas’ in his notepad, that the reality hit that December 24th (Christmas Eve) was three and a half weeks away and nothing on the page had progressed more than worried dots.

Worry in gift ideas was tied to the dreamer: what could the boy who could dream a whole forest and living beings could need or want? Yet, the lack of attendance at Aglionby Academy besides famed Latin lessons was more than enough to say Ronan was not materialistic; he had no need for the confined walls of the school and most certainly more when he had looked bored at the campaigns Henry pursued.

Observation only took Henry so far; when placed, Henry’s relationship with Ronan, and even Adam, only existed in the company of Gansey and Blue. Their friendship and love for each other was deeply sewn from the year prior where Henry had observed magic, and it was that friendship and a probable distaste of Henry’s campaigning and pining after Gansey in their early Aglionby years that had grafted a nerve or two.

Grasping at different gift ideas was more than just hard. When an idea seemed plausible Henry scrapped the thought as soon as he pressed his pen onto his notepad. All that could be scrawled were the blank thoughts on the blank paper; writing the title did not count nor helped (and writing in hangul did not help either).

Unsatisfied with his attempts at racking his brain on anything more than trying to figure where and when he had seen Ronan on the Aglionby grounds, Henry dropped the notepad on his chest and stared at the high ceiling of Monmouth. He exhaled a resigned sigh; his chest rose enough for the pen rolled to his neck and onto the mattress.

“Well, that’s a rather big sigh.”

Henry shifted himself to raise his head in an unflattering way with his chin tucked in his collarbone so he could see the small woman sat crossed-legged at the end of the bed. Her focus was on the clothed embroidery ring, that Henry guessed she was making another patch for her denim jacket, but she still spoke up again, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Gifting presents, you know more than just an _acquaintance_ is harder than I thought,” Henry sighed again and placed his head back on the pillow.

He felt Blue shift on the bed, letting a spring loose to which they both made a note to remind Gansey his bed was still too small for three. “You suggested secret santa so you have to keep it that way.”

Henry padded across the short distance, hands and knees, to sit beside Blue and rest some of his weight on her as if to hug her but without his limbs. “I wasn’t going to tell you who I have,” Henry defended himself and continued, “I just wanted advice.” When Blue didn’t respond besides a sideways glance and a raised brow he added the only magical word he knew, “please?"

Blue smiled, more for the tilting look Henry gave in his need for his head to stoop to her height at some level whilst attempting to plead like a pup, rather than to beg. “Okay, first, I wouldn’t buy an item: Gansey has everything, Adam would refuse it, Ronan dreams his wants, and I have no need for _things_.” Henry gave an unimpressed look at her remarks as if he hadn’t already rolled through those options as soon as he had suggested Secret Santa. Blue continued, “alright, well none of us are expecting anything extravagant. You have a wide variety of music. You could incorporate that?”

One of the stereotypical things his Asian parents had brought him up on was a love for music and whilst classical had been the start, Henry grew accustomed to the different licks and tastes of genres. Thankfully his parents had not made him pick up an instrument and had set him free to dabble in all of the different genres; it was easier to choose which songs he did not like as opposed to genres he liked soley. Yet, his lack of skill with an instrument stumped him on Blue’s first advice. “Do you mean I should make some music then, if I shouldn’t buy something?” Henry asked.

“Um, I guess that just depends on you and who you have,” Blue said. Henry’s face was stuck in an off-frown that Blue guessed was an apologetic smile. “Sorry it sounds as if I’m being as cryptic as my mum or even Gwenllian.”

“It’s alright, you’re not cryptic,” Henry shrugged. “I shouldn’t be overthinking things. Honestly, I’m living in irony as I chose to play such a game.”

Blue chuckled, “If it makes you feel any better I have yet to decide how to actually do my present.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder thanks to their mismatching heights but still they had the same easy smile.

“Guys!” The two turned their heads to the unseen kitchen Gansey had called out from. His call was more of an apprehensive one that had him exit the kitchen and appeared a few feet away with his phone in wet hands. Blue raised a brow and Henry stared, both wondering what had happened with dinner plans. “Okay, before you say, I haven’t messed up. I just got a call from Helen and she wants song recommendations but she’s not accepting my recommendations—”

There was a muffled remark on the other end of the smartphone that was easily interpreted to be a scoff at Gansey’s limited music taste.

“Anyway, can you two sort things out. She said one of her clients is very into heavy rock and needs other people’s opinions,” Gansey explained and handed his wet phone to Henry who had his hands free.

“She thought you would be a good person to ask about music tastes?” Blue had only one brow raised higher to tease her partner.

With the phone closer to the pair they could hear Helen’s voice slightly better (though still not on loudspeaker) and hear her bite back, “I was actually hoping the Lynch boy was around.”

The sound of the name burned into Henry’s mind from an obsession over scrap paper, pricked his ears and Henry placed Gansey’s sister on loudspeaker. Gansey thanked them, gave a quick one armed hug to Henry, trying not to drip too much water on the bed and his partners, and pressed his lips in Blue’s hair as to not disturb the needle in her hands. With his thanks he withdrew to the kitchen to carry on with their dinner.

“Hello, Helen,” Blue spoke first acknowledging the woman on the end of her phone and was able to work on her embroidery. Both Henry and Helen responded with greetings that made them chuckle.

“Oh, I hear a Blue but is that… Henry?”

Henry gave a nervous chuckle, “Yeah.”

“So do you guys have some good after-party rock music suggestions,” Helen asked. “Since Ronan isn’t there.”

“I didn’t think he’d be the type of guy to appreciate to that sort of music,” Henry frowned.

Although Helen could not see the frown tightening Henry’s features she heard the contemplation, “Sure he does. He’s used to loud things blaring in his ears. Are the tats just a ploy then?”

“Blaring things in your ear doesn’t really mean you’re appreciating it,” Henry said. There had been many times when Henry had almost burst his eardrums with sounds to distract wandering thoughts and to block the others out from disturbing him. If anyone was to appreciate music it would not be through blaring sounds and Henry could only imagine Ronan used the heaviest guitar riffs to drown unwanted thoughts.

“The tattoos seem more symbolic with only a hint of rebellion,” Blue had said but she had not looked away from her embroidery.

There was a sigh and Henry was unsure if he it had come from the other end of the phone or the sound had just been a crack in the call, either way Helen continued, “You two just watch people.”

Blue spared a moment away from her embroidery to give Henry an appreciating look. He only managed to follow the glance as a something that said few understood Ronan yet he really was not so mysterious as outsiders thought. Blue’s appreciation of Henry’s thoughts on Ronan’s music taste (however small) made him feel a little more included in the close relationship of Gansey and his magicians. He hoped that closeness could be somewhat proven in their gift exchanging on Christmas Eve.

Brought away from Christmas thoughts but still towards the music, Helen demanded their opinions for a wedding she _surely_ should have had experience with. Even so, Henry was more than happy to help. He gave suggestions of previous bands he had heard and listened to when he held parties in Litchfield House, to which Helen gladly took notes and commented on bands she vaguely recognised. Blue contributed once to a song one of the boys in the Vancouver crowd had thoroughly enjoyed and had been one of the more niche songs to have picked out but Helen was eager to review. In each suggestion, Helen kept her keenness for the song, album, and band choices, Henry gave until they teetered into some sort of repetitiveness that issued a round off. Helen said her goodbyes with thanks and a comment that they shouldn’t keep her brother from visiting to which both Blue and Henry promised they wouldn’t (albeit less than enthusiastically).

Ending the call, thoughts of music and songs stayed with Henry as his mind had searched his vast knowledge of rock but the songs were mixing in with his previous problem. He had so easily thought of songs for clients he had never nor would ever meet whilst gifting Ronan Lynch a song or two was tapping at his temple. What were the possible genres and melodies an Irish boy would listen to with closed eyes but an expansive mind?

He wondered what instruments gave lilts and lyrics…

He pondered what notes would resonate throughout a body for feeling…

He thought of the Irish name…

Henry excused himself off the bed, doing his best not to jolt Blue and the sharp needle, and dove to the corner of Monmouth where his piles of CDs and tapes almost blended in with the surroundings of Gansey’s cluttered desk. The collections of music were organised by genre then artist. There were pieces that dated centuries and others that were in the current charts but the majority on either side of the spectrum were unsuitable when thinking of Ronan. Henry needed something recent but hidden. No, what Ronan needed was something Celtic, dated, but sprung with modern sounds. Ronan needed music that felt like home, because if Henry was at home with his thoughts he was sure Ronan was at home with sounds in his ears.

Homely sounds, or more specifically, Irish sounds often came with the melodies of strumming and plucking of stringed instruments with the soft beats of small percussion. Specifically, images of chilled night events at the Irish pubs he, Gansey, and Blue had taken the time to listen in to during their travels. Those nights were filled with bands playing alternative music but more noting were the folk songs that gave a murmur of a different life.

Whilst Henry was not the most avid Irish (and non-Irish) folk listener he still had his fair share of albums and EPs from bands he liked. Henry’s folk collection could be found digitally rather than in his physical collection as he tended to find that the folk songs he liked were independent artists who either had no physical copies of their songs or were pretentious enough to record them on Vinyl (Henry was not wasting money on a Vinyl player that would scratch perfectly good music). Collating the folk songs and artists he liked, Henry aimed for his heart to find a warming album; one where he would not have to be worried he was not as close to Ronan as the others were but would still leave a place for Ronan to find.

 

* * *

 

When Gansey announced he had finished preparing dinner, the image of Henry hunched over himself scrawling on a piece of paper and large headphones sent a little image of Ronan — bar the tattoos, shaved head, and broader stature. To be honest, there was no resemblance to his old roommate but the same feeling of being in oneself was there and more so when it took a few tries to coax Henry out of the headphones and the piles of CDs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually used a random name generator to decide who would get who ^^;  
> Comments are appreciated.


	3. Gansey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking the name Henry Cheng had been a pleasing moment but that did not make it any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Lady_Monochromic

Gansey loved Christmas; not the holiday itself but rather the few days it spanned and how the world allowed him those days to be absorbed with his friends and family. Each year his parents, and Helen, over-decorated the house and bought a real tree to add warmth and welcome their youngest back home, but with thanks to Cabeswater and Blue, Gansey was unsure if he could look at a tree without its roots the same. Despite Helen’s hellish work that often required overtime that was borderline illegal, she was the one who demanded the family of four were present (even if it meant dragging Ronan to have Christmas one year). Her insistence made for a cosy dinner where they would wear their pyjamas and tell rubbish jokes and stories.

This year would be no different, the youngest Gansey was expected to be at the home in DC for the traditional warmth and family. Except, despite his promise to his family that he would definitely visit and stay for their traditional dinner on Christmas day, there was no way Gansey would be without his Henrietta family the days preceding.

Christmas Eve had been mutually decided as the perfect day for the Henrietta gang to fill themselves with food, gifts, and love, then take sleep in the Barns. They could wake to a morning of quiet before leaving the Barns and be able to each set out and branch slightly away for the spanning days where Gansey could eat with his family; Blue could be bombarded by the women at Fox Way; Henry could squeeze in a visit to his mother despite not truly celebrating the Christian holiday; and Ronan and Adam could tend to the animals on the Winter farm.  

Gansey could not wait for Christmas with his friends and anticipated it with much excitement as he was a fond giver of presents. Whilst the rules of Secret Santa stated he only had one person to gift, Gansey was still going to at least get all his friends the little items he had seen that they would love. He thought that maybe he could get away with giving the others gifts a little more because Gansey had found he had pulled the name of the instigator: Henry Cheng. A boy only the year before he spoke to with passing small talk but now he could talk with for the entirety of a night.

Ever since the day Henry had placed that metallic bee in his hand, Gansey had become encaptured in Henry’s charms. Just as Gansey had held a different air about him at Aglionby Academy, Henry had hidden most of his self too. Both had peeled back layers in comfort not vulnerability: a comfort that was open and warm for Blue to also reside.

Yet, despite the (platonic, romantic, familial) love Gansey attached to his giftee, it was rather difficult to picture one gift that would be worth giving. Originally, although still prevailing, Gansey had booked an appointment for the Pig’s keys to be copied to make a home for a keychain moulded to a tree with his, Blue’s, and Henry’s initials that he had thought were simple and cute. Although looking back the keychains seemed silly to gift to his partners as they resembled childish hearts crudely carved into trees and park benches. He had seen many of those on their road trip.

An idea was there. Their road trip surely was a great place to start brainstorming. Gansey scribbled down the various cities that he had travelled to with Henry and Blue, remembering the sights and strange things they had experienced.Truly, it was hard pinpointing what had been their best moment because even the slumps where they lived off bread for three days, lost in some desolate part of America none of them knew and the days consequent seemed to have gone wrong, could now be looked back on with laughter as a good story to tell.

Driving the Pig down those foreign roads at nights whilst his passengers slept had been days of tranquility Gansey was ever thankful for. How they had done so much in just one year, and were soon bound for more, was beyond him. In his recollections, Gansey had pulled polaroids and prints from his drawers and scattered them across his desk. There were far more pictures uploaded onto his laptop from both his camera and his phone that Blue liked to use for photography and selfie purposes (Gansey’s lock screen was still an unflattering selfie of Blue and Henry in the Grand Canyon).

Looking at the photos of the Grand Canyon, the long beaches Henry had joked about taking romantic strolls on, and skyscrapers Blue had commented made her feel as if she truly was an ant, Gansey ached to be surrounded by Blue and Henry, and Adam and Ronan. This Christmas period was the time for that. But Monmouth Manufacturing was empty bar himself: Ronan had moved out to the Barns during their travels (although he still kept his things in his room), Blue had gone to spend the day with her mother, Henry had excused himself to do their grocery shopping, Adam was busy with work and college studies, and Noah no longer (never had) lived there.

In a still Monmouth with no distractions it should have been the best time to work on the Secret Santa gift to Henry. The problem was in finding a way Gansey could compile the moments and memories into something tangible; the simplest answer was to create a photo album but Gansey didn’t want to just ‘shove in’ and cram meaningful memories into films of plastic. No, he wanted appreciation. He wanted to gift something that Henry could treasure, cherish: something that Gansey could scrawl his thoughts in and leave room for Henry’s feelings, something that could be crammed and filled so the pages spilled and screamed away from the binding, something like the Glendower journal…

The Glendower journal was a mess filled with pressed flora, newspaper clippings, and scrawled notes when the library forbid him to photocopy certain texts. Gansey had poured his life into that thing and with the bones long solved, Gansey still did not know how he felt when he revisited the enthusiastic scrawls and notes. Those worn pages were Gansey exposed. It was not Gansey the Third of Aglionby Academy. It was the open Gansey who watched Blue’s eyes on his, the faithful Gansey who allowed Henry to push his fears, the tired Gansey who let Ronan protect him, the caring Gansey who waited for Adam.

The Glendower journal was a mess and though Henry deserved Gansey’s enthusiasm and Gansey would be more than happy to free himself on the page, Henry had never been a part of the creation and development of the journal. Henry saw the consequences. Whilst Blue, Ronan, and Adam were chapters in the journal, Henry was the after. Henry had been placed in the finale and led Gansey towards a resolution he would be ever thankful for. Would he have been brave alone? Gansey would have liked to have thought he could but the relief that Henry had been there was enough to borrow Henry’s courage.

Gansey sighed, and scanned the desk of photos, tickets, leaflets, and other miscellaneous things he had collected over their travels. Most of the places had been Henry’s idea with the odd chips from Blue as she wanted to venture further but where Blue wanted to see sights she had only seen in magazines Henry had taken them to small places, not necessarily secluded, but places that could only be found with a knowing eye. Gansey picked the photos from the places Henry had taken them. There were pictures of the three high school graduates both posing smiles for the camera and candid shots of each other along with beautiful sceneries they had managed to capture no matter the weather.

For all the photos and paper-form momentos Gansey had chosen, he needed a big canvas to play with. A journal would be the most fitting, as private as Henry liked to be, but the photos and memories Gansey wanted to collate were the parts of Henry he wanted to share with, his pretty smile for one. Gansey eliminated the thought of a half-hearted photo album that was really for baby photos and grandparents. What he needed was a scrapbook that could be filled with bustling pages of photos, little tickets, and scraps of paper Gansey had collected from their trips—he now had a use for them. Fanning a few of the selected photos in his hand Gansey smiled, pleased that he would be able to make something for his partner and pushed to work as soon as he could.

 

* * *

 

Being secretive should have eaten away Gansey’s insides but hiding his plans of a gift thrilled his heart with excitement. No matter how many times he imagined Henry’s reaction, whether the images of Henry were accompanied with a pleased hug or a disappointed polite smile, Gansey became more determined.

As the days progressed and Gansey managed to steal time away from Monmouth and his friends to purchase a scrapbook and tried to obtain as many photos as he could, not only of Henry but of what he loved. The scrapbook had to be filled with proud moments. It needed to perfect for Henry so-wonderful Cheng.

Sometimes he would work on the scrapbook in the night whilst Henry and Blue slept. Those nights chewing on mint leaves with only the desk lamp as a light source limited his time to only being able to stick photos and stickers as opposed to picking out colour schemes where he needed natural light. Working by his desk at night ensured that if he heard either of his partners stir and check for him their distance meant they would not be able to clearly see what he was working on.

In some kind of voyeuristic manner, Gansey had wanted Henry to find the scrapbook from a drawer not closed properly or just for him to inquire how he was getting on with his Secret Santa gift. Yet to his disappointment, Gansey received no curious remarks.

Although one day he did hear Henry and Blue talking in the kitchen conspiring as to what Gansey was doing at two in the morning when they had finished with both school and Glendower. That moment sent a happy warmth through Gansey. He needed Christmas Eve to be sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this bit, comments are appreciated,,


	4. Ronan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan would give Gansey the world, if asked, but expressing that was a different matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, Maikay (Lady_Monochromic) is in Amsterdam right now so i have been entrusted to upload this chapter, which is fitting because it's the first chapter that I wrote for this fic! Hope you enjoy it! :) — Emi (EmiAliceinWonderland)

Ronan had, in all honesty, never done Secret Santa before. In his upbringing, Christmas had been a family affair, it wasn’t something you celebrated with your friends. But now, he supposed, his friends _were_ his family. When Henry had been explaining the concept (mostly for his and Adam’s benefit—Adam, of course, had never participated in a Secret Santa, either), Ronan had assumed he would be able to get away with pulling someone like Henry or maybe Blue out of the hat of names and just get them a box of chocolates and a gag gift—nothing personal, nothing to lose sleep over.

(Regardless of if he had pulled out the name Adam Parrish or not, he was getting that boy a Christmas present.)

But _Gansey._ Ronan hadn’t really thought about giving Gansey anything tangible before, and he was Ronan’s _best_ friend—a gag gift wouldn’t do.

But Richard Gansey III was the epitome of a boy who had everything material he could ever want. When he had pulled out his friend’s name from the hat, his first thought had been that there was nothing Ronan’s inherited fortune could buy that Gansey’s could not. Of course a dream object would be something that no amount of money could buy, but everytime Ronan thought about Gansey in a dream, he ended up, without fail, and without conscious decision, bringing back a pile of epipens.

Eventually, it had been a late night at Monmouth that had sparked Ronan’s inspiration for his present to Gansey.

His journal, full to the brim, at least twice the thickness that it originally was from the sheer volume of writing and information and sketches Gansey had put into it, was left lying on the kitchen counter.

Ronan knew nothing could replace that particular journal, nothing could take it’s place in the search for Glendower. But Gansey liked to write, liked to document things even if they weren’t about Ancient Welsh kings, and Ronan had only ever seen him with traditional exercise books to take notes in. Nothing nice, or fancy, or _special_ . Nothing that said _Gansey_ the way his Glendower journal did.

It took a while, but Ronan eventually found what he was looking for. Henrietta had its fair share of quaint and occult antique shops, filled to the brim with objects and gifts that could either be gold dust, or worth nothing depending on what you were looking for.

After church one Sunday, he dedicated the afternoon to searching for Gansey’s present. After hours of trawling through dusty old bookshops he finally found, at the back of an antiques shop, the perfect journal for Gansey. Small enough to carry around, but big enough for all his writing to fit into it. It was leather bound in a buttery brown that was slightly worn around the edges, obviously antique, but not used or dirty.

“Oh, this one’s lovely,” the lady at the counter said in a drawl that reminded Ronan of Adam as she checked the handwritten price tag on the journal when Ronan took it up to the counter to pay. He felt a little exposed to be buying something so sentimental, even though no one else but him knew it’s significance or who it was for.

“I think it was handmade in Ireland,” the middle aged counter lady said conversationally, and Ronan’s eyebrows raised involuntarily.

“Oh?”, he said, and she hummed in reply with a nod, flipping the journal gently open to the back where there was a faint but beautiful watermark of The Tree of Life inside a Celtic knot.

It was so strangely fitting, so serendipitously symbolic of his and Gansey’s relationship that if Ronan hadn’t been going to buy the journal anyway, that would have persuaded him. It was an object that would fit right into Gansey’s life like a long lost friend.

When Ronan got home to The Barns, he was itching to put pen to paper. He had been drafting a note in his head to write in the first page of the journal for Gansey. Something to make it personal, special, something to make sure Gansey knew how important he was to Ronan.

God, he was so, so important.

Ronan Lynch was not someone who lacked feelings or emotions—in fact he was the opposite, he highly valued sensitivity and sentimentality. But expressing it? That was something only a few people in his life would ever get to witness. Writing, though, was somewhat easier for him than talking—no danger of his voice cracking, or coming out as nothing but a pathetic whisper.

Ronan was a little ashamed to admit that he had never told his best friend how much he meant to him. He had always assumed that Gansey must just _know._ But after a long talk with Adam recently (because if anyone could make him talk, it was Parrish), he had realised that people didn’t always know exactly what Ronan was thinking and feeling.

*

 “Sometimes you have to tell people, you know, Lynch. Use your words”, Adam had said fondly, brushing a finger gently over Ronan’s cheekbone, a knowing smile on his face.

 “Alright, loser,” Ronan had huffed, his face warming up from the touch and Adam’s words.

Adam had sighed. “See, _I_ know that that means “I love you, thanks, Adam, you’re right”, but other people aren’t fluent in Lynch language like me,” he adds with a laugh, and then Ronan is laughing too with the joy that it is to be so _known._

_“_ You’ve got to tell people in terms they understand sometimes. You’ve got to be honest, not always defensive. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A nod. “Yeah, okay.”

 

* * *

 

Ronan sat down at the kitchen table, carefully getting the leather bound journal out of his bag, uncapping his favourite pen, and putting his headphones on with blaring music so that he would just _write_ and not overthink his thoughts. He wanted this to be honest, he wanted this to really mean something to Gansey. He deserved it. And he knew, anyway, that if he told the other boy not to let anyone else read what Ronan had written it would be in safe hands.

_To: Gansey,_ he began

  _You of all people know that I’m not good at expressing myself in words. I do things to show that I care for other people. You’ve seen me punching Adam’s dad for him, you’ve seen me use up all the energy I have to try to control Cabeswater to keep my friends safe, and you’ve seen all my failed attempts at trying to bring back some kind of cure for your allergy because I need you alive, always._

  _But I think maybe I don’t say things enough. I can’t say everything with actions. I need to speak sometimes. Or, in this case, write._

  _I need you to know how important you are to me, and as stupid as it sounds, how special. You really are special, and amazing, and I’m so so so grateful to have you in my life. Really. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and the first friend I ever had, too. Sometimes I can’t understand why you picked me, of all Aglionby boys, to talk to the day we met._

  _I want you to know how much you've helped me. I know you must worry about me, because I do stupid things, and for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the nights I kept you awake, I’m sorry you had to find me that night bleeding out in the church, I’m sorry you’ve had to take me to the hospital more than once, I’m sorry you’ve had to look after me when I’ve been drunk out of my mind, and I’m sorry I haven’t always said thank you to you for these things._

  _Thank you for giving me a reason to stay alive, thank you for involving me in your search for Glendower, thank you for accepting me the way I am, thank you for seeing me at my worst and still wanting to have me in your life, thank you for letting me live with you, thank you for checking on me every night to make sure I’m not having nightmares, thank you for dragging me along with you to DC that one year for Christmas—you always know I’m lying when I say I’m fine being alone. Thank you for somehow knowing exactly what to do when I’m having a panic attack, thank you for not telling anyone that I have panic attacks, thank you for introducing me to Adam, thank you for forcing me to go to school, thank you for talking to Declan when I didn’t want to, thank you for letting me shout and scream and yell and cry about my dad, thank you for not telling me empty promises of “it’s all going to be okay”, thank you for letting me bring a baby raven I dreamed up home and not getting mad when she ate your pillowcase that one time, not to mention that night terror that ruined your Henrietta model._

  _All this to say: thank you for saving me._

  _Merry Christmas, Gansey, and a Happy New Year._

  _Omnia mea familia, et in domum patris mei._

  _I love you._

  _From Ronan,_

  _P.S please don’t let anyone else read this. Thanks._

 

* * *

 

When Ronan finished writing he realised he hadn’t paused even so much as  to stretch the cramp out of his fingers whilst scrawling out his stream of consciousness. He didn’t want to re-read what he’d written, irrespective of if there were any spelling errors or grammar issues. He knew if he thought too much about the fact that he was actually going to be letting Gansey read something so honest and affectionate and open, he would rip the whole page out of the journal and pretend it never existed.

So, with a sigh, he took off his headphones, and paused the song he had been immersed in whilst he put his thoughts onto the paper. He closed the cover of the journal, his fingers caressed the soft leather cover for a moment before a thought sprang to mind and he decided to add one more thing.

Gansey was a sentimental person, and one who liked physical memories of every stage of his life. His whole room was filled with clippings from newspapers and magazines and photographs, some that would make it into a coherent piece of scrapbooking or journaling, and others that would lie around for long enough for Chainsaw to take ownership of them.

(Gansey had been horrified a few months ago when he found a page of his Glendower journal ripped out and scrunched into a ball, being rolled around on the floor by Chainsaw’s beak. Ronan had found it hilarious.)

Of course, Gansey had a polaroid camera, he was the definition of a hipster, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

“I just like having a picture available immediately,” he always said. In this case Ronan had to agree he was glad for the stack of small, square polaroid photos Henry and Gansey had printed out and handed out copies of to each in their friendship group.

Ronan got up from where he had been writing for god knows how long, and made his way over to the drawer where he had stuffed the photos. Sifting through them he couldn’t help the smile that began tugging his lips upwards.

There were a lot of candid shots of the group of them walking, exploring. There was a picture of him and Adam looking at each other with the sunset behind them that Henry or Blue or Gansey must have taken without them noticing. Countless selfies with Henry throwing up a peace sign in the foreground. Finally, though, Ronan found what he was looking for, a picture of Gansey and himself that Adam had taken. They were at Nino’s and Ronan remembered it being a relaxing evening of just being able to be teenagers for the first time in a long time.

In the photo, they both look genuinely happy and that made a plume of warmth spread through Ronan’s stomach. Gansey had his arm around Ronan’s shoulders, with Ronan leaning slightly into his friend. Ronan remembered Adam remarking on how cute it was.

"Perfect,” Ronan muttered to himself, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he re-opened the journal and tried to line up the small square of the chosen photograph perfectly on the page. When he was satisfied with the positioning, he went back to the drawer he had retrieved the polaroids from and grabbed a glue stick.

Under the stuck in photo, he wrote:

_“The greatest sweetener of human life is friendship. To raise this to the highest pitch of enjoyment, is a secret which but few discover.”_

When Niall had been alive, he had constantly told Ronan Irish proverbs he had learnt from his father, and grandfather before him. Some would be in Gaelic, some in English, some about love, some about luck, some about friendship.

Ronan smiled as he took one last look at the photograph and cast a quick glance over the note, before flipping to the back and running a finger gently over the symbol of The Tree of Life that lay imprinted on the page.

He thought of his dad, he thought of Gansey, and he thought about how proud his father would be that his strange, outcast, prickly son had managed to somehow, against all odds, discover friendship in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Latin means: “My family is everything, and you are my family”. 
> 
> Comments and feedback is very appreciated! <3


	5. Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam knows Blue but there's little she needs in a materialistic world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by EmiAliceinWonderland

Adam had known Blue Sargent long enough to know that she did not place nearly as much value on bought things as she did on handmade items. It was clear to see that this trait had come from her family. Maura was always dressed in chunky knit cardigans that she knitted in her spare time between readings. Blue’s cousin Orla, whenever Adam had seen her at 300 Fox Way, had also frequently had some kind of craft in her hands. And Persephone, dear Persephone, who Adam missed so deeply, was baking an apple pie, or a batch of warm cookies, or a fruit cake in the kitchen whenever he had gone over to practice scrying with her.

The Fox Way Ladies were a family of makers, and so they appreciated people making things for them in return. This was the reason Adam was avoiding buying anything for Blue’s Secret Santa gift, not to save money (even though he needed to), because god dammit if he had _wanted_ to buy her something he would have done it, he would have worked overtime and scraped together the funds.

It was a lazy evening spent with Ronan, relaxing in the apartment above St. Agnes when he first got the idea. Ronan was on the floor, headphones in and playing with Chainsaw. He was methodically enticing her around the small space of the room with a loose thread he had pulled off his hoodie earlier, and Chainsaw was gleefully hopping after it, pecking at the string before Ronan jerked it away at the last moment. The other boy was in his own little world, but Adam gave himself the indulgence of watching him for just a moment, studying the way the harsh lines of his face, his expression, became so soft and boyish when he thought no one was looking.

Adam smiled to himself from his desk where he had been doodling in his sketchbook for the past twenty minutes, listening to music of his own, but with just one earbud in his hearing ear. He liked that he and Ronan could so easily exist in each other’s spaces, there were no awkward silences, or “ _what do you want to do now?_ ” questions, because they were both simply comfortable in the other’s presence.

It was more than Adam, who had spent his whole life carefully tiptoeing around his father’s space, could ever have wished for.

He made a mental note that he wanted to draw the scene in front of him, Ronan transformed into a carefree boy playing with his pet raven on Adam’s wooden floor. He possessed a whole sketchbook that had originally been...well, just a sketchbook, but had now, accidentally, slowly but surely over time, evolved into “ _Ronan Niall Lynch: A study_ ”.

Adam would be mortified if anyone else found it. He _had_ been mortified when Ronan inevitably found it, but they were past that embarrassment now.

Now, Adam was comfortable enough to allow Ronan to lazily watch over him as he sketched in their moments of downtime. It was something that relaxed Adam—art—it was something that required nothing more than a pencil, some paper and your hands. He liked that about it.

Inevitably, Ronan had insisted on getting him some “proper” art supplies when he had found out about Adam’s hobby. And Ronan, being a Lynch, had of course, made it impossible for Adam to refuse the stack of gorgeous watercolour paints and brushes and thick, sturdy paper that he had bought.

Where Gansey would ask politely if Adam would accept an act of charity ending in an affronted Adam wanting to lecture him about his privileges; Ronan had a way of forcing things upon Adam by pretending they were nothing to do with him, and not reacting, except with the Irish charm he saved for his boyfriend, for when Adam challenged him about it.

All Adam could do a few months ago when he had found the painting supplies outside his door of St. Agnes was sigh and roll his eyes at Ronan when the other boy adamantly denied having anything to do with buying the products left by his apartment.

His sparkling eyes, and wicked grin had given him away easily though, and Adam couldn’t find it in himself to be mad because of the money Ronan must have spent. Not when Ronan looked so pleased with himself. Besides, something about their relationship, felt a lot less like charity, and more like just wanting to make each other happy, and so, slowly, Adam was learning to accept the things Ronan wanted to give to him.

Without thinking, Adam had begun turning his previously aimless doodles into spirals of flowers sprouting from the page of his sketchbook. This was it. This was what he could make for Blue. Something personal, and pretty, special and unique enough for her, but not too lavish or over the top. His thoughts of drawing Ronan and Chainsaw would have to wait until later now that Adam had been struck with inspiration for what he would be gifting for the Secret Santa.

After brainstorming for a while on what exact piece of art Blue would approve of, Adam had sketched out a few ideas, and was finally satisfied for a composition for a painting that he thought she would like. Maybe he could even spare some money to get it framed so she could hang it on her wall? He wasn’t sure if he was being presumptuous in thinking someone would want his art on their wall, but he knew beyond the layers of doubt that this painting was as good a gift idea as any, and if nothing else Blue would appreciate the thought and effort put into it.

Adam quickly became absorbed in his work once he started the painting, so much so that he barely registered Ronan moving from the floor with Chainsaw to lean against the back of Adam’s chair to watch him place the watercolours down carefully onto the starch paper.

He had sketched out a faint outline of flowers that he hoped would remind Blue of the enchanting, peaceful parts of Cabeswater and the magic it held. Most of the flowers he had drawn were blue lilies of course, calla lilies in particular took up a large part of the page, with the addition of wildflowers that reminded him of Blue’s personality creeping up the border of the paper, small and wild but pretty and powerful at the same time.

 

* * *

 

Adam hardly noticed the time passing as he dipped his paintbrush in and out of water, dropping vibrant colours onto the canvas and letting them blend together. He realised after a while that his left foot was tingling with pins and needles from being tucked up under his right knee on the chair for too long; it was getting dark outside, the sun setting hours earlier now than it did just a few months ago. Rain was pattering against the small window, wind bustling against the old church building making wooden beams creak.

“Stay the night?” Adam said with a yawn, gesturing to the weather outside as if it was a justification for asking Ronan to stay. (Really, they both knew he would be staying anyway - they hardly spent a night apart these days - but the courtesy of asking still stuck with Adam).

“Of course, Parrish,” Ronan replied with a wry smile from the mattress that served as Adam’s bed a few feet away from the desk on the floor. He must have relocated himself there at some point whilst Adam had been painting. He looked relaxed, his eyes heavy lidded but focused on Adam, his posture soft like someone had released all the tension he usually carried in his taut shoulders and unbuttoned his spine.

“Sorry I’ve been in a world of my own,” Adam started, but Ronan cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Don’t apologise, I love watching you paint, your hands on the brush, the look of concentration on your face, seeing your ideas come out of your head and onto the paper—”

Ronan stopped his own sentence, his face turning a little red.

Adam couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he swiveled his chair around so he was closer to Ronan.

“Is that why you look so relaxed?” he asked, biting his bottom lip subconsciously as he slid himself out of the desk chair and flopped onto the mattress next to Ronan.

“I—yeah, it’s relaxing, and you look happy when you do it,” Ronan replied quietly with a sheepish shrug. “You know Cheng is probably gonna be mad when he finds out we know _exactly_ who we both got for this Secret Santa thing, isn’t that against the rules of the game?” he added with a soft laugh.

Adam nodded, laughing a little himself at the thought of Henry’s aghast face if he knew that Ronan and Adam had sullied the games rules like this. “Yeah, well, we’ll have to act surprised on Christmas Eve and fool him,” he added. Ronan held his hand up in a lazy thumbs up of agreement before Adam spoke again.

“You won’t be able to keep a straight face if they ask if we’ve cheated, though. You can never lie to Gansey,” he said to Ronan, a knowing look on his face.

Ronan paused for a minute, before he replied. “Adam, no one at that party is going to be straight”, he deadpanned, shrugging dismissively.

There was a second of silence where Adam wasn’t sure if he should facepalm or not, before he let a short burst of a laugh make it’s way out of his throat.

“True,” he quipped back, shaking his head a little.

“Anyway, Maggot’s gonna love that painting,” Ronan said after a moment of thought, though he looked and sounded strangely downhearted when he said so.

Adam sat up into a better position that the one he had fallen into, and bumped his shoulder into Ronan’s affectionately.

“Are you—” he paused for a moment, surveying his boyfriend’s face, a surge of warmth rising up in his chest when he realised that Ronan was _jealous._ The wistful way he was staring at the painting, the look he had given Blue the other day in the diner when she’d said she was excited to find out who had pulled her name for Secret Santa.

“You’re jealous,” Adam said with a small laugh, poking Ronan playfully in the side, his heart skipping with love when the other boy squirmed away. “Ronan Lynch is jealous ‘cause I painted something for a _girl_ ,” he continued teasing, dragging out his sentence in a sing song.

“Ugh,” Ronan huffed out, crossing his arms resolutely in front of him, “shut up, Parrish, I’m allowed to be annoyed. You’ve never painted _me_ anything.“

Adam had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from bursting out with laughter at the look on Ronan’s face. He was clearly half pretending not to care at all, and half looking like a four year old boy who’d been denied candy.

“Lynch, you’re pouting right now,” Adam pointed out, a snicker making it’s way out of his mouth.

Ronan didn’t respond except for his pout getting a little more exaggerated.

“Ronan, come on, I didn’t pull your name out of the hat, I have to give Blue something, and I can’t give you anything ‘cause I didn’t get your name.”

Adam took Ronan’s hand and tugged at it so he would uncross his arms, before he moved closer to the other boy, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and brought Ronan’s fingers up to press against his lips. He felt Ronan shiver and unwind a little. He mentally congratulated himself at a job well done.

( A bouquet of real flowers, each symbolising something different and meaningful to their relationship, a canvas painting of Cabeswater that Adam had been working on for months, and various other little gifts he’d saved up for were all hiding at the back of his wardrobe with Ronan’s name on them for their first Christmas as more than friends. Adam thought of the way Ronan’s face would look—surprised and lit up and happy—when he realised Adam had been lying, and smiled to himself. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were expecting solely Blue/Adam content, Emi pynched all over it ^^;;  
> As always comments are appreciated !


	6. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue has always been figuring out the boys and it seems she will do for Adam's gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Lady_Monochromic  
> We only have one tiny section of the last chapter to write now. We can't wait to upload everything.

“So what are you getting your boyfriends?” Orla teased as she placed heavy emphasis on the plural. Ever since Blue had started referring to Henry as her partner alongside Gansey, Orla could not help keep pushing. Blue’s comments on the multiple boys that called for Orla could be used against her however Blue would always sigh because those boys and her boys were two different matters.

Blue took only two seconds to debate whether she should tell her cousin or not that the (purposefully) awful knitted jumpers in her cupboard were the gifts she would make Gansey and Henry wear for the holidays. She had knitted Gansey a bright orange jumper with a black reindeer knitted into the pattern, although the reindeer missed a few muscles as Blue had dropped loops by accident, whilst Henry’s was a burning yellow that had a criss-cross of grey and reds.

Instead of giving a straight answer Blue said, “We’re doing secret santa.”

“Ohh tell me who’ve you got!” Orla brightened, eager. “I’m not playing so it isn’t cheating if you tell me.”

“I got Adam,” Blue sighed unsure how she would go about making a gift for a boy who liked to refuse things and the last time she had spoken to him she swore they had had an argument.

“So what if you got Adam you still have to go through with it,” Orla laughed, guessing that Blue did not want to associate with an ex when in fact Blue spent more time with him now than they had when they were in a relationship.

Blue shook her head at Orla’s misinterpretation of her sigh. “It’s not that I don't want to gift anything to Adam—we did spend a… _month_ together.”

“What? How does that make it hard? You should know all the stuff that makes him happy and those that make him tick,” Orla frowned.

The logic of Orla’s statement rung true: Blue should know Adam more than she thought she did. Seeing Adam’s name on the scrap of paper Ronan had given her when attempts at choosing a name that wasn't her own had failed, she had racked her brains for thoughts of memories where Adam had stated he had wanted something. But just like herself, Adam hated _things_ or more specifically things that were easily bought with no thought nor effort. At least she already knew she was not buying anything for Adam, not unless she wanted to hate herself for doing so.

That only meant she had to make something but she couldn’t sew or knit Adam anything decent. After all Adam’s plain style was not something she could modify from items of clothing.

“I guess you could just whip something together and he wouldn’t mind,” Orla said.

Blue was _not_ going to “whip something together” for Adam Parrish who was still a dear friend to her despite their ups and downs, no, she was definitely making something. “I’m figuring something out,” Blue said to Orla.

“Sure,” Orla commented. “Honestly, just do whatever. Secret Santa isn’t something you should be worrying over.”

“You might think that but the boys...” Blue started but she could not finish the rest of her sentence in front of her cousin. She knew the boys too well where they would pour their soul into just one gift for one special person. Henry’s idea of Secret Santa was not just a suggestion and a game but rather it would be something to bond over, something to love.

“Suit yourself,” Orla shrugged. “Anyway the phone’s gonna ring for me soon. I’ll talk to you later when you’ve decided on something.” Orla excused herself from Blue’s room and just as Blue moved to shut the door she heard the phone and Orla’s voice singing down the line to some boy in need of a psychic.

Although Blue had been trying to figure out exactly what to make for Adam, she did at least know two things.

The first was that her skills with fabric exceeded any other craftsmanship she could do with her hands. She had, after all, knitted her boyfriends sweaters and although Adam seriously needed a wardrobe change he did not need a sweater. Blue contemplated modifying her own clothes for Adam but their fashion choices were far from complimentary let alone similar—plus she needed to take into account the difference in height.

The second was that Adam needed something for college, not in the sense he needed supplies (although Adam would need those he could handle that himself) but Adam needed things to remind him of the Henrietta gang, his home.

Deciding she needed some inspiration, Blue opened her drawers for her sewing supplies and noted the coloured threads she had and the loose pieces of fabrics trying to force ideas into her head. She tried sifting through the few sewing and crochet magazines for other ideas on little gift items that would be nice enough for Adam to keep but the suggestions were not suitable tastes. Throwing her magazines back in the drawer and sighing as she flopped on her back onto the floor, Blue stared at the ceiling.

Why was it so hard to make something for Adam?

All Blue could think of was that his present needed to be simple enough that Adam could not protest as often as he did with Gansey. If she could make something that represented Adam’s life in Henrietta for when he left or felt lost he would always know where his home was.

Blue was drawing on a blank from overthinking. She needed another opinion, recalling that she had helped Henry with his gift in some way, she decided to head back to Monmouth. Blue grabbed her biggest coat from the hook but paused at her favourite denim jacket hanging on the peg underneath. Her favourite denim jacket had originally been Calla’s from her teen years and Blue’s personalisation had been to sew patches she had collected onto the denim. Weren’t they the kind of things that represented a person.

It was true that most of the patches were a commercial sort from bargains and shops but nonetheless Blue had collected and chosen those patches as something she loved. They were materialistic patches she could plaster her identity onto. If she could pin just one identity onto one patch surely she could do that for Adam. The patches were a great idea but Blue could not simply just go out and buy a few things that she could guess Adam would like. No, she needed an even more personal touch. The patches on the denim jacket were embroidered. Surely those patches could’ve been made by Blue’s own deft hands. She was a lover of embroidery and it would not have been too strenuous. She could imagine herself not just making one patch for Adam to stick on his bag but a few to represent his friends.

It took a day of research alongside trial and error on her embroidery ring to work out her designs made thick enough patches for ironing and sewing onto other fabrics. Blue successfully ironed a test patch onto her denim jacket and wondered why she had not personalised her clothing with more than just collected patches before.

One of the reasons for not making her own personalised badges could have been the length of time it took for Blue to work her needle but Blue could pin the reason on the fact the initial work of deciding what would look and fit as a patch was the greatest hurdle. Blue had already decided on the quantity she was making for Adam but she needed the assurance of quality and used a messy notebook to sketch out her inconsistent ideas. When Blue explained her plans to Orla later that day, Orla commented on how embroidering at least six patches representing Adam and the Henrietta gang (Noah included) would be a task. She did however compliment the sentiment.

 

* * *

 

It was not narcissism that had Blue make her own patch first. It was the fact that she already had a denim jacket filled with her identities and Blue already had her idea as if she would sew the patch onto her own jacket. It also added for more practice in the sizing of the patches and how much detail she could sew into with simple thread—Adam’s patch would be the most intricate but she would save him ‘til last.

In her next patch, she aimed for something a little more simple and more of a muted colour palette. However, the boy she thought of was nothing but muted colour: Henry Cheng was bright yet soft. Blue could think of a multitude of little things she could attach to Henry and his loving smile. She thought of the times they had dates with and without Gansey and the times they spent at Monmouth, but those times were her relations to Henry, not Adam’s. Blue thought the only time Henry and Adam would spend alone was when either herself or Gansey had temporarily left the room. That was not to say she thought they weren’t friends; they were part of a whole that had yet to fully be worked.

Whilst Henry had made way into their lives with Gansey’s trust and objective eyes, he was not and never would be a replacement for Noah. Noah had loved glitter when they messed around. The sparkles and shines from them were a muted spiritual thing that sometimes Blue wondered if he liked them when he was alive and she tried her best to hunt for the thread that had glitter and gold strands in her drawers—and when that failed she searched the crafts shop. Glitter was for Noah, but Blue hoped the sparkles would also be an essence Adam could always take with him.

Gansey’s and Adam’s relationship was always intricate and sensitive. Blue had been a witness to their smiles and loving laughs, and to their arguments that left them both helpless. They were dependent on one another, Blue could tell and though she could not share that bond they had, she was not jealous. Gansey and Adam loved one another in a way that Blue was sure she could have made a number of patches that fitted their relationship—from shared sweets to Nino’s pizza, from maps to journals, from flowers to cabeswater—but Blue wanted to make a boisterous patch that did not hide who it represented. It had to be garish and Blue thought of when Gansey had fondly told her of how he had met his friend.

Out of her Raven boys, Ronan was the most raven—the tattoos and Chainsaw gave that away the most. Blue had planned to embroider an image of a raven as a representation of Ronan, but the image was more a representation of Chainsaw: a beautiful bird that loved Adam as much as she loved her dreamer. Ronan dreamed beautiful things and before Blue sketched a patch for Ronan, she embroidered small boots for a hoofed girl.

When Blue thought of Adam she thought of loyalty, perseverance, and strength. When she thought of his sacrifice to cabeswater she thought not of his pain as he succumbed to the dirt and trees but a boy crouched, hands in the leyline talking with Persephone. Persephone had often told her and Calla of the work she and Adam did on the line. Whilst he had not known Persephone as long as she had, it had not made her death any easier, not in the way he still continued his work and he held onto her tarot cards for life with love.

Collating, stitching, and strengthening eight patches took three whole weeks and Blue swore never to use her embroidery ring again.

Blue would only allow herself some relief when she would see Adam’s face. If he was pleased Blue would pick her work up again with satisfaction and motivation for more but if there was disappointment Blue feared she did not know her friends as well as she thought. Blue tried her best to push the image of a strained smile on Adam’s face from her mind and tied the gift bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are appreciated !


	7. Noah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Ronan visit an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written piece because who doesn't love Noah.

Ronan and Blue had planned this meeting almost three weeks prior, back at the Barns when Henry had suggested Secret Santa. The two of them had suggested and decided the gang should still gift something to Noah. It did not matter that he rarely appeared physically in their lives, not when they still loved him. There were the odd times when Blue had been going about her business when she would feel tufts of her hair move on a dry day or a slight pressing feeling as if someone had squeezed their way into the already full Pig.

Noah would always be a part of their lives.

Noah’s memorial stone was not bare when Blue and Ronan arrived at their friend’s grave. It was adorned with flowers and an unopened card they guessed was a well-wishing for Christmas or of a private update from a family member. Blue placed her own bouquet of mixed zinnia flowers with an accompanying card as more of a subtle respecting gift to the Czernys than it was for her close friend. After all, they were to make their way to the abandoned church on the ley line where they had truly buried Noah’s old bones.

Compared to the burial site that had entertained a funeral, there was nothing to identify the patch of grass where they had buried Noah’s bones more than a year prior. All they relied on was their sense of the ley line and a half-buried stone.

Being at Noah’s burial site, it was hard not to remember their year finding Glendower. Blue dug in her coat pockets for the small box Ronan had given her only two days ago claiming he couldn’t keep it lest she wanted him to lose it but his pressed smile said it was because of something else—or rather someone else: Noah.

Blue proffered the box to Ronan checking whether he wanted to hold Noah’s gift again. ”Do you want to gift it? After all, you did dream it.” Blue gave space for Ronan to accept the dreamt item.

Ronan shook his head letting Blue take the lead in presenting the gift to their dead friend. Blue nodded and took a seat on the damp grass, that persevered under the cold months, and waited a moment for Ronan to decide whether he wanted to dump himself next to her or remain standing.

But as Blue looked up at her friend, he was only staring at the patch on the ley line where they had buried Noah's bones in an attempt to keep him with them. On the surface he seemed vacant but the grief in his eyes caught her in her thoughts. She looked at the gift box in her hands and breathed slowly, trying not to let Ronan’s thoughts leech into hers when she was already thinking of Noah.

“Ronan,” Blue said tentatively, not knowing if he was listening. “Noah should've been included, right?”

Ronan went quiet for a moment, not feeling quite like speaking. On the way to the ley line he and Blue had made easy conversation, good friends now despite their differences and arguments, after all they’d been through together.

Now though, Ronan was feeling the loss of Noah like a physical ache.

 

* * *

 

When Blue had mentioned to Ronan, a few days ago,  her idea of “including” Noah in the Secret Santa game Cheng had forced them to play this year, Ronan had had to swallow down the acidic taste of grief that rose in his throat. Noah Czerny loved Christmas.

God, he loved it so much, and he wasn’t here to see it this year. He hadn’t really been here to see if for many years, but this time his lack of physicality made him truly gone.

Gone.

It was a bitter word, and one that Ronan still felt strange about. He couldn’t quite comprehend that he wouldn’t be seeing Noah again. The way he wouldn’t be seeing his dad again. The way he wouldn’t be seeing his mother again.

No matter how many times death reached out it’s cold fingers to touch Ronan Lynch’s life and take someone away, he wouldn’t get used to the people he loved not existing anymore.

With a sigh, he shook himself out of the depression he was thinking himself into and tried to centre himself back to the present moment.

A few nights ago he had gone to sleep thinking of his dear friend: _What would Noah have liked for Christmas?_ He had thought to himself as he lay in bed.

When he thought of Noah it was this: skateboards and glitter and tacky souvenirs and snow globes and decorations from the dollar store.

Ronan had eventually fallen to sleep with a smile on his face, and woken up the next morning with a snow globe in his hands.

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, he should have been...but Cheng didn’t really know him,” Ronan replied to Blue’s previous question, though a long pause of silence had passed. He had to pull himself out of his thoughts, remembering the night a few days ago when he had being thinking about Noah and ended up, somewhat accidentally, dreaming him a gift.

Blue spoke up not wanting to let Ronan’s thoughts wander too far, “are you sure you don't want to say anything to Noah?”

Ronan gave an awkward shrug in response, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. A shiver passed through him, partly from the December chill in the air, and partly due to thinking about Noah whilst being on the ley line.

He bit his lip, sucking in a breath of the cold air around him before exhaling slowly. “I don’t really know what to say,” he replied quietly. After a moment he looked over at Blue who was still sitting on the ground, seemingly much more at ease than Ronan was. “How can you accept that he’s never coming back?”

Ronan watched Blue turn from him back to the patch of grass as she fiddled with the small box that had been in his hand a few days ago. He thought he heard her say something, like he used to hear from Adam, but her hands seemed more unsteady playing with the box and he guessed the sound he had heard was a slow breath (inhale or exhale he could not tell). Ronan regretted his thought of her ease in acceptance.

“Hey, Noah,” Blue said after an in-breath. “We, Ronan, Gansey, Adam, and I, got you a little gift, or rather Ronan dreamt you one. I don’t think you could get a better one in a store.” Blue placed the box on the grass without letting go just yet. “We’re doing Secret Santa this year. I’m sure you would’ve loved to join in and it’s probably something you would love to play a little joke on one of us with to then reveal you had a nice gift you had made for us. I guess our gift to you is like that in a way?” Blue glanced at her side to see Ronan’s leg and blinked, not knowing when he had crouched down beside her.

Many other thoughts whirred in her head but none were coherent enough for her voice to articulate. Blue stilled her hands to open the box and slowly pulled the lid off almost as if it was a wedding box and remembered the kiss on Gansey’s bed. It was a warm thought about a cold boy and a little fitting for the dreamt snow globe sat in the box. She smiled a moment, warm with the peaceful thoughts of her friend but a whisper of cold as if something pressed her cheek interrupted her thoughts. Blue would have left the cold whisper as the winter breeze but the tug on her unruly hair reminded her of sitting in the back seat of the Pig with four other boys—they had been boys then, with no signs of a boy decayed.

Beside Blue, Ronan let out a subconscious gasp when he felt something like the ghost of a playful pinch against his side. Normally he would have shrugged off such a small feeling, but this particular action was something he and Noah had always teased each other with. A pinch as they passed each other in the hallways of Monmouth, a light punch to the shoulder when they were purposefully annoying each other. God, he missed that stupid boy.

Before he was able to turn to Blue and remark on her words and his own thoughts, though, he felt another sensation, this time undeniably real and there. His whole body suddenly felt a little colder, but not in a bad way, in a way that made him instantly remember Noah and his always-chilled skin. He felt a tangible squeeze around his shoulders, before the feeling went away completely, leaving him feeling so empty he felt like he could cry.

Ronan had not noticed that his eyes were burning as he looked around frantically for a second, trying to see even a glimpse of Noah, a shadow of the smudgy boy that had been so present in his life before. There was nothing, though. Only the church, the hidden stone for a grave, the glittering snowglobe, and Blue Sargent next to him.

“Was that…?” Ronan got out, his voice a choked whisper.

“Did you just...?” Blue breathed at exactly the same time.

They both let out a deep exhale, giving each other a small nod of mutual acknowledgement of what had just happened.

“Merry Christmas, Noah,” Ronan said into the cold, fresh air, finally able to say something to his friend after feeling him just moments ago. That was all he needed to say. Noah knew they loved him, and he had thanked them for his inclusion in his own way.

It was only a minute or so later, after dwelling on their own thoughts, and contemplating Noah’s resting place beneath them that Ronan realised he and Blue had, at some point, started holding hands, her small palm gripped tightly in his.

Ronan flushed slightly, but gave Blue’s hand a quick squeeze of acknowledgement before dropping it and standing up.

“You okay, Sargent?” he asked quietly.

Blue smiled wistfully and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have one final chapter left! Warning it's a looooong one ^^;;
> 
> As always comments are appreciated,,


	8. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a month of stressing, making gifts, and waiting, the gang can finally share their secrets on Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written piece for the finale.
> 
> We're sorry guys, but when we said earlier we got carried away well... this chapter is just over 11,000 words... We've never written so much. I just want to give the biggest and hugest thanks to my best friend Emi who persuaded me to actually begin this fic and who helped in co-writing this. Honestly, this fic wouldn't exist if she didn't say "do it" nor if she hadn't wrote chunks of it herself. Thank you thank you.  
>  _— Lady_Monochromic_
> 
> Thank you to lovely Maikay for telling me her idea for this fic and suggesting we co-write it <3 it's been so fun making headcanons late at night and even in breaks in between lectures at uni ^^; it's been SO fun!!! Hopefully you can't see too much of a difference between our writing styles because this huge chapter was a huge team effort. I hope you guys enjoy reading as much as we've enjoyed coming up with and writing these ideas.  
>  _—EmiAliceinWonderland_

Christmas Eve: the day they had all been waiting for.

The cold Winter’s day had started with the bustle of making sure the Barns was decorated in such a way that one could get sick of glitter and tinsel, before they began cooking their feast. Whilst the saying “too many cooks spoil the broth” was a reiteration throughout school, Blue had experience, firsthand, that the saying rang true when the women at Fox Way got carried away but at the same time some of her favourite meals had come from the chatter and playfulness of the women all cooking together.

When they sat the dining table plating enough food for five young adults and a small dream girl, they broke into praise at the accumulation of their hard work. They all had brought food over: some had already been prepared and needed heating whilst other dishes needed to be prepared in the kitchen. Conversations ranged from recipe exchanges to their plans for the next few days but overlaying everything was an excitement for the gifts they had brought.

It took over an hour and a half for the young adults to finally admit defeat to their large Christmas meal, the consequence was that they ended up with more leftovers than anticipated that would either have to be eaten as supper or to be taken away for the next day. Despite their full stomachs and groans of approval at their own cooking, there was always room for dessert so Blue brought out the yule log cake she had made prior to the dinner with her mother and Calla and placed it on the low coffee table in the living room where the boys, Chainsaw, and Opal had moved to—or rather the boys were seated still complimenting the food they had all made whilst Opal trotted in a circle round the room with Chainsaw and the Christmas decorations.

“Does anyone want to do the honours?” Blue asked holding out the bread knife.

No one piped up in eagerness and Gansey let Blue “do the honours.” Blue cut the dessert into six even pieces but Ronan took two pieces stating Opal wasn’t allowed chocolate. He didn’t explain further. Blue looked to Gansey as if he knew but he pulled a confused look and Adam’s passive shrug said nothing either. She dealt the rest of the log cake between them.

Blue handed a slice to Adam and watched him take it with a slight somberness at looking at the chocolate. She watched as Adam tasted the cake. Earlier, when she had brought the log out to sit in a warmed oven that the recipe had been Persephone’s and despite the fact there were many holidays (Christmas and Hanukkah as the two most popular) were rolled into a mesh of one celebration in the psychics’ home, the yule log had been Persephone’s favourite.

“This is lovely,” Adam commented and gave a smile that said he knew why Blue was watching him eat.

Blue smiled back, “Calla made most of it this year, though some of the kids helped out.”

“If they're like Opal cooking I think I might be put off by it,” Ronan said even though he still shovelled the dessert in his mouth. He did, however, point to Opal squawking after Chainsaw as if to make his point. Ronan and Adam had distracted Opal from the kitchen enough times earlier that Blue had known what Ronan meant.

“That's true,” Adam said nodding his head and fork in agreement. “I still like it though and Ronan still eats whatever Opal makes.” At that, Ronan nudged Adam before he could elaborate but they knew he would not have.

Blue took her slice of the cake and went to sit in Gansey’s lap. She was comfy snuggled into Gansey’s left side and more so since he was wearing the awful orange sweater she had knitted (only awful in appearance as Blue had made sure to find the softest wool and cotton). The colour was repulsive and more so since she was wearing green (one her mother had knitted two years ago) and Henry had his yellow jumper too. Blue felt half-sorry for Ronan and Adam who had to look at the three of them from the other sofa but the comment Ronan made as she sat down took most of her sympathy away: “You guys are honestly burning my eyes with the colours and sickly comfort.”

Blue slanted a look towards Ronan. _What a hypocrite._ Ronan was leaning into Adam so much so it looked as though Adam was sat in his lap. They looked rather cute, in an odd way that they were her friends, snuggled together not as Ronan held onto lingering looks towards Adam’s various body parts but where the two were displaying their affection with ease.

When Adam moved though, Blue thought she had not been decent enough in her gaze towards them and had disrupted their comfort. Ronan caught Blue’s eye and her guilt at disrupting their peace faded as the slight furrow in his brow was the same look he had back at Noah’s grave: understanding. It was then she noted Adam had only moved to place their empty plates on the table as he had easily shifted back into the same position.

Their slices of cake took no time to finish and when their plates were empty enough that Chainsaw was pecking at crumbs Henry suggested, “Shall we start exchanging our gifts?”

“Yes but who should go first?” Gansey asked. “Or you could start Henry as you did suggest this in the first place.”

The rest of them nodded earnestly for Henry to place the neatly wrapped box onto the coffee table where the Yule log sat almost demolished. Despite the encouraging smile from Gansey, Henry could only bite his lip and look in worry at the gift he had laboured over in his hands. There was no way he could go first! No, he could not just thrust his gift to Ronan and say Merry Christmas before anyone else moved—

“I’ll go first as I need to get the bag from the kitchen and I can put the plates away while I get it,” Blue said saving Henry from going first.

Henry breathed slowly with relief and gave a smile of thanks to Blue which she replied with her own smile and the tug of her eyes. Blue moved and stood up to take the empty plates and cutlery into the kitchen, whilst the boys made sure they had their own gifts ready to gift.

When Blue returned she was carrying a small gift bag in her hand. Instead of sitting on the sofa with Gansey and Henry and placing the gift bag on the table for one of the boys to claim, Blue held the gift bag loosely in front of Adam for him to take. “Seasons greetings,” she said with a loose smile but not without sincerity. “Surprise, I was your secret santa.”

Adam didn't take the gift bag straight away. It was not until Blue proffered it closer to him and teased, “you can accept a gift from your ex if it's part of secret santa,” that she saw Adam really considering the gift. Blue ignored the look Ronan sent her and only waited for Adam. She really had no attachment in their brief and too old “relationship” but Adam was staring at her in a disbelief she couldn't quite place.

He was not really an ex (never really was that label). Adam was a friend and part of her home and she hoped that he counted her as part of his home too. In a moment’s glance to Ronan leaning against Adam, she remembered the conversation she and Ronan had had on the way to Noah’s grave:

 

* * *

 

_“Do you and Adam still argue?” Blue said trying her best not to make it sound as awful as it did aloud._

_Ronan cocked his head, “Parrish is kind of hard not to have the odd arguments with.” Chainsaw squawked in a sound that both agreed with Ronan and scolded him for allowing such arguments to occur. “Do you with Gansey? Uh, and Cheng?”_

_Blue noted the still slight discomfort between Ronan and Henry but she did not comment on it, not when they had been starting to talk like an awkward father and son-in-law rather than the times where Ronan (and Adam) avoided Henry altogether. Blue shrugged and said, “Sometimes but rarely. It’s kind of hard when Gansey gives you_ that _look.”_

_“Which one? The hurt puppy or the scolding mother?” Ronan laughed. “Gansey hates arguments but you're not friends with Parrish if you haven't argued with him.”_

_Chainsaw squawked in agreement and Blue smiled. It was true Adam had his fair share of spats and arguments but they all meant something and rather than being pushed away it was Adam opening up. In that thought she was relieved that maybe her and Adam were still good friends, albeit complicated and their secrets from each other were but non-existent._

_Blue thought of the embroidered patches and with Ronan’s (and Chainsaw’s) verdict of Adam she could place that maybe she hadn't guessed him so wrong. Adam’s home was with them and always would be._

 

* * *

 

“Seasons greetings or a Merry Christmas,” Blue said again almost as if she was correcting her last statement and both Adam and Ronan could see how sincere she was with her gift.

Adam raised his eyebrows in slight surprise at the fact that Blue had managed to pick his name (or rather, _Ronan_ had picked Adam’s name to give to Blue, and _oh,_ that realisation made Adam’s heart stutter for a second) whilst he had simultaneously picked hers. He reached out to give Ronan’s side a quick pinch in acknowledgement that he had seen the look he had given Blue.

“Thanks, Blue,” he said sincerely, if not a little awkwardly, partly for the fact she had mentioned their brief relationship, but mostly because everyone in the room was now expectantly waiting for his reaction to the present that he had reached out to take.

Inside the gift bag (garish and colourful as one could only expect from Blue Sargent), was a smaller velvet pouch, black and understated with cord drawstrings.

Adam reached into the bag to pull the pouch out, curious as to what Blue could have placed inside as it felt light enough for there not to be anything within. When his hands grasped onto the objects inside the bag he did not immediately know what they were, though as he turned the small but detailed and colourful patches of embroidery over in his palms, setting them all out on his knees, a wide smile crept up his face.

Adam felt a warmth press into his shoulder, as Ronan leaned curiously into him to see closer what Blue had made.

“One for everyone…,” Adam said in wonder as he ran his fingers over the patches, pointing out a beautifully cross-stitched raven to Ronan who hummed in appreciation.

“Pretty cool, Maggot.”

Blue gave Ronan a quick but pleased smile. “You like them, Adam?” she asked, studying the recipient’s face.

Adam glanced up, eyes bright, “I love them,” he replied, picking each small patch up one by one and explaining to the room, as Henry and Gansey were looking curious as to what had even been inside the small pouch.

“A raven...for Chainsaw, I presume,” he started, stroking a finger fondly down Chainsaw’s shiny ebony wing as he said so, as she was sitting on the arm of the sofa with him and Ronan.

“A Coca Cola lid, of course, and tarot cards…” he continued with a small but wistful smile.

“For you,” Blue said.

“For Persephone,” Adam replied quietly, almost like a whisper. Blue nodded as she realised that the two patches reminded him of their dear friend.

“For Persephone, then,” she repeated.

Adam continued studying the rest of the patches. “They’re so intricate, Blue, they must’ve taken ages to make,” he commented appreciatively, holding up a patch with a tree on it containing a mirror inside it. How had his friend managed to put so much thought and personality into such simple things?

“The Pig for you, Gansey,” Ronan chipped in, genuinely smiling, relaxed and happy in a way that was unusual but lovely to see, as he held up the patch with an orange Camaro sewn into it.

“Nice one, Jane,” Gansey commented, smiling so genuinely his dimples started showing.

“Robobee for you, Cheng,” Adam said, holding that patch up for Henry to see, who looked delighted at the small creation. Alongside Henry’s patch was a stitched snow globe. _Noah._ Adam gave a small wry smile as he turned that particular patch gently over in his fingers before showing it to Ronan, who stared at it intently for a moment before wordlessly taking it from Adam’s lap and holding it close to his chest.

Adam’s own chest filled with a bittersweet warmth at all the little symbols on these patches he had been gifted that would probably be completely random and meaningless to anyone who wasn’t in this room, but that meant so much to him and his friends.

“And oh…” Adam paused as he got to looking at the last patches. “These are for you, Ronan,” he said, a little quiet, like he’d forgotten that this wasn’t a private conversation as he turned his body to Ronan, their heads crowding together to study one patch, a little bigger than the others (Adam guessed Blue had done that deliberately, and his heart skipped slightly), that was embroidered with Ronan’s simple black bracelets and for Opal, Ronan’s dream, her little boots that covered her hoofs. To anyone else it would mean nothing, but to Adam the images would be a constant reminder of his loved ones.

“I thought you could put them on your college bag or something, and then even when you’re away we’ll all be with you in a tiny way. I want you to feel like you’ll always have us with you. Because you will. No matter how cheesy it sounds, you’ll always have a family here, Adam.”

Adam looked up at Blue, a warmth in his chest that her words had ignited. This was what Christmas with a family felt like. He had waited eighteen years for it, but it was worth it.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a moment.

Blue nodded at him, “Anytime.”

 

* * *

 

In the short amount of time that had passed during everyone admiring Blue’s patches, and getting into the swing of Christmas Eve, one person in the room had already become bored: Chainsaw. Adam watched in silent horror as he turned away from the conversation he’d been having with Gansey to see black feathers behind the couch that Ronan was sitting on, pecking at something.

“Chainsaw, stop!”

There was real panic in his voice as the others all looked over to him. The “something” that Chainsaw was attempting to destroy (now with Opal’s aid too) just so happened to be the painting that Adam had made for Blue. He had wrapped it to the best of his ability (which was to say: not very neatly), but the shape and size of it still made it a conspicuous present compared to everyone else’s gifts, and he didn’t want Blue guessing what he had got her before it was time, so he had hidden it in the living room before everyone arrived.

Now, though, seemed to be the time to gift it, for Chainsaw was busy ripping off the messy wrapping paper from the canvas herself.

Ronan let out a loud laugh, though knowing he was the only one in the room who had any real control over Chainsaw, stood up to gently pick her from the floor behind the sofa, leaving Opal to chew on a scrap of paper behind the couch, before passing the painting over to Adam with his free hand.

“Hey, wait, wait, wait, how did you know that was Adam’s gift, Lynch?” Henry suddenly piped up suspiciously, his head rising from where it had been comfortably resting on Gansey’s shoulder to cast Ronan a narrow-eyed glance.

Ronan, being the undiplomatic creature he was, did nothing to cover up the fact that he and Adam hadn’t abided by all of Henry’s rules to Secret Santa, and simply shrugged at the affronted boy before giving Chainsaw’s wing a stroke.

“I bet you know _exactly_ who that present is for _and_ what it is,” Henry continued after a moment, his voice getting more and more accusatory.

Adam sighed deeply. Ronan chuckled.

“Henry,” Gansey said softly, an arm on his partner in a bid to calm him. “It’s alright if they know, they practically live together these days.”

“It’s _not_ alright, Gansey!” Henry exclaimed, shock upon his face that Gansey could be compliant about this. “Blue and I practically live with you and we didn’t tell each other about our gifts!”

Adam stood up, shaking his head slightly, and before anything could escalate further simply handed the half wrapped painting to his friend.

“Merry Christmas, Blue,” he said with a wry smile.

“Careful, Sargent,” Ronan said, smirk broad but not unkind. “Adam got carried away and the gift is as big—”

Blue glared at Ronan and half-threatened, “if you carry on that sentence...”

“—as your heart,” Ronan toothed a grin.

Blue rolled her eyes at Ronan and did her best to hold the edges of the gift sized just short of A3 from Adam who, thankfully, was also struggling with holding it and making sure the front of it was covered. She grabbed the edges and propped it on the coffee table.

The wrapping came apart with ease thanks to Chainsaw’s work earlier. With the wrapping off, a curious Blue was met with vibrant blue. Adam had filled an entire canvas with various flowers that made Blue feel her embroidered patches were far too small in comparison.

“It’s beautiful, Adam,” Blue breathed, taking in the brush strokes and colours. The painting looked  like a bouquet of flowers and it half-reminded Blue of flowers Adam had given her a long time ago but the painted carnations seemed more sincere and were only a highlight of the piece not the main feature.

The centre of the canvas had beautiful types of lilies. Of course Adam had drawn blue lilies, Gwenllian laughed that song too many times, but they were accompanied with calla lilies that took up a vast part of the canvas and her heart. Creeping up the border lifting the paper were tiny wildflowers that were so small and detailed that Blue almost missed them.

As Blue took in the arrangement as if it was a real bouquet, the flowers had her blushing from remembering how Orla had explained the flower meanings of all of the bouquets she received (some with appreciation and other times in resignation that boys didn’t know anything).  Was she really _that_ strong?

Blue could not put the painting down both from the physical weight of the canvas and the time Adam had taken in his gift. “How long did this take you?”

Adam shrugged, “I didn’t really keep score.”

Despite the contrast in sizes of Blue’s gift to Adam and Adam’s to Blue, it was easy to see they both had spent a significant amount of time on their gifts. Looking at the two gifts with hindsight their labour had been seen by the eyes of their friends: Ronan had been witness to Adam’s labour over the canvas and the way Adam never seemed satisfied with it enough that he kept revisiting the painting; Henry had seen Blue with her embroidery ring so often in the past month he swore it was her companion; and Gansey found Blue bearing cute plasters on the tips of her fingers more than gloves and had seen Adam wearing a wrist support that was dismissed as “muscle strain.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you alright Gansey?” Adam asked. He tried not to stare at how Gansey’s fingers made the wrapped gift in his hands sound like a makeshift drum but his gaze wandered in small worry for his friend.

“Huh?” Gansey looked to Adam but noticed his gaze on his fingers drumming Henry’s gift with a realisation and stopped. “Oh, uh…” Gansey was unsure where to look and his eyes darted from the gift he had wrapped for Henry, to Adam and his patient look, to Blue beside him, and to the beautifully embroidered patches. His heart swelled and his face lit in a smile for his friends. It was clear Blue had put deep thought into the embroidery patches that were not just for Adam but all of her friends.

“Is it okay if I gift mine, now?” Gansey asked the group.

Adam nodded.

Ronan agreed.

Blue said, “go ahead.”

Gansey looked to Henry, who guessed he was requesting final permission and had given him a smile. The smile Henry gave had a slight strain that Gansey assumed was from his own nerves in presenting his gift.  

With the go ahead from his friends (and literally from Blue), Gansey held his present out from him and turned to present it to Henry. Gansey smiled and said, just as Blue and Adam had, “Merry Christmas.”

Henry stared at the present for two long seconds before taking the neatly wrapped gift.

Upon taking the present he angled himself to lean back on the arm of the chair so everyone (including Blue who was still holding her painting) could see him open it.

Really, opening a present should not have been as nerve-wracking as his heart was making it to be and yet his fingers fumbled to pick at the tape.

With all the wrapping off, Henry’s appreciative gasp was stolen by Opal who cooed by Ronan in a curiosity Henry felt. In his hand was the curious thing Gansey had been labouring over in the night for the past month. It was a gift Henry had assumed was for someone else, not him, and it conjured the memory of the first scrap of paper he had picked with Gansey’s name on. It was a beautifully hand-decorated scrapbook where pages bulged and the front cover was claiming Henry as its owner.

“I hope you like it,” Gansey said with the most unguarded smile that Henry could not help but shift and squeeze a hug round Gansey.

“It’s beautiful and I can see you’ve filled it already,” Henry said and brought his arm back so he could admire the scrapbook with his hands but still keep his weight snuggled against Gansey.

The front cover had been pasted with a tea-stained map of the world. In the centre was black fine calligraphy that read: _A World for Henry Cheng_ and was adorned with pressed ivy. There were also penciled Ivy stems and leaves but they faded into the background.

“You don't mind if I open it, right?” Henry asked, running his fingers along the bulging edges.

Gansey nodded. “I made something you could share.”

Henry opened the scrapbook and was immediately met with a selfie Gansey had managed to take of the Henrietta gang a fortnight before Henry, Blue, and Gansey had set off for their road trip.

“Look at this,” Henry said to the group and showed the selfie where Gansey had just managed to squeeze the five of them into the frame, albeit Adam only had half a face thanks to Chainsaw. Nevertheless the photo was cute.

“That seems way too long ago,” Blue commented upon seeing the photo.

“Parrish, you shouldn't taunt Chainsaw. No wonder you're cut off.”

“Shut up,” Adam elbowed Ronan. “You're the one who told her to flap her wings. Plus she’s hiding Cheng’s hair.”

“I didn't notice that before,” Gansey peered at the photo where the black wings of the raven blended with Henry’s well-kept hair.

With each of them admiring the photo, Henry hesitated to move on and slowly turned the page until one objected. No one did and he turned the page over to be met with cute photos of the toga party, that seemed far too long ago. They were ridiculous both for content and the weird angles the photos had been taken in and Ronan could not help but comment on Gansey’s shoulders.

Flipping meticulously through the scrapbook was a chorus of the five of them staring at the pictures and talking fondly of memories and commenting on Gansey’s handiwork. Although there were significantly more pictures of Henry and his two lovers, Ronan and Adam had moved from their seat on the other sofa to gawk at the scrapbook too. In fact most of the photos were of Henry and Blue as it was clear Gansey had taken more pictures of them than they had realised to which did not go uncommented and Blue was leaning into Gansey to admire the scrapbook.

Henry carefully turned over the page still looking at the candid photos of him and Gansey or him and Blue, but just as he admired those photos he quickly slapped a hand over one of the images on the next page. “No! Gansey why’d you put this one in?” It was the unflattering picture of him and Blue outside the Grand Canyon.

“You guys made that my lockscreen so why not?” Gansey defended himself.

“Oh, I love that picture,” Ronan said. “It really highlights both of your features. Yours especially Blue, you can tell how short you are.”

Blue gave a quick glare before laughing herself as she was looking at the contents of Henry’s scrapbook snuggled next to Gansey.

“Gansey, I thought this was gonna be filled with love?” Henry said.

“It is,” Gansey objected and made to try and peel Henry’s hand off the photo. “Look, I put nice stickers around it and the other pictures are cute ones.”

Henry reluctantly moved his hand both because he didn't want to let Adam and Ronan see the picture and for the feel of Gansey’s hand on his.

Henry carried on flipping through the scrapbook letting his friends also admire Gansey’s handiwork accompanying snapshots of memories. With each page Henry was awed at both the choice of photos that swelled his heart and the fitting decorations that brightened each memory. Not only were there stickers, ribbons, and other little crafts stuck to make the paper thick and padded but Gansey had also written little comments alongside and pointing to photos. There were tickets that had been labelled, such as various museums they hadn't been able to take photos in and times where they had not had time to.

The scrapbook bulged and it wasn't until he hit just over three-quarters did he find a double-spread page half-filled. On the left page were various photos of Henry and the gang. In the corner was one of Henry and Gansey, Blue had taken in Ninos, and there was a small message that read:

_Merry Christmas my Henry!_  
_You're an amazing person and I love you with all my heart. I hope we have more memories together both the seemingly mundane (but never is) and the thrilling adventures.  
Love you, Gansey xxxx_

Henry looked up to Gansey with a smile, ready to hug his love for Gansey.

“I left the rest blank for you,” Gansey smiled.

Henry flipped through the rest of the pages finding them blank. The brown card looked so bland and Henry was thrown at how Gansey had filled each paper with a world of memories for Henry.

Closing the book Henry thanked Gansey again not without another hug and a quick peck on the cheek (that Henry swore Ronan cringed at).

With the feeling of Gansey’s present in his hand and the warm hug from his boyfriend, Henry allowed himself to breath, smile, and address Ronan, “Would you prefer to go first or—”

“I’ll go last Cheng,” Ronan said and although the words seemed hostile they sounded appreciative and knowing.

At first, Henry thought Ronan’s admittance for him to go first, was not only that he had Adam’s secret santa gift but had managed to figure out who Henry was gifting to, but as the last two to deliver their gifts it would not have been hard for Ronan to know Henry’s hands shook in anticipation of gifting to him.

Henry reached to the side of the sofa and pulled out the box he had wrapped earlier that day. He attempted to copy Blue’s casualness from when they had started the gift-giving, but instead Henry simply placed the box on the coffee table in the middle, using Gansey’s (and Blue’s and the canvas’s) weight as an excuse not to move to the sofa where Ronan had draped himself once more.

As he placed the box on the table Henry wished Ronan a Merry Christmas, trying to sound most sincere to the most religious person in the room.

Ronan reached forward to grab the box, giving Henry a small nod of thanks and acknowledgement, that was placed on the coffee table in front of him, before sitting back on the sofa, the wrapped gift unceremoniously in his lap.

He didn’t really know what to say or where to look as the gang focused their attention on him as he began ripping the wrapping paper from the box. He had no idea what Henry could have got him— they were...on the way to being friends, but nowhere near as close as Ronan was to the rest of the people in the room, and certainly not close enough to truly know each other’s tastes and preferences for a thoughtful gift.

Somehow, though, Henry Cheng had managed to pull it off.

Ronan bit his lip subconsciously, the rest of the room fading away as he saw what was in the box. Music was more than special to him. A few CD’s, and a note on top from Henry.

_Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Ronan Lynch!_  
_I hope you enjoy listening to these,  
Henry_

With slightly trembling fingers, Ronan put the note aside, picking up the first CD—a Kodaline album with some of his favourite songs on. The thing was, though, these were not the types of songs that people outside of his close circle would _think_ or assume were his favourites.

Yes, he liked the Murder Squash Song, but that kind of electronica was mostly fun to blast in a car whilst destroying the speed limit; that was music for blaring out with Noah just to annoy Gansey.

Ronan wasn’t raised on that type of music. He was raised on folk and Irish ballads, soul- moving music that made him feel connected down to his bones to his father’s side of the family. So how did Henry know?

He could have asked Gansey, yes, but Ronan thought that, really, it was more likely that Cheng was simply much more observant and thoughtful than he’d pegged him for. Gansey had never told anyone about Ronan’s private life because Ronan had asked him to keep it that way, and he was sure that even if it was Gansey’s partner enquiring about Niall Lynch he would decline to tell his best friend’s secrets.

Unaware that he was completely in his own world now, inside his own head and not paying attention to Henry or the rest of the people in the room awaiting his reaction to the gift, Ronan gently turned over the other two albums, filled with Irish music, modern enough that he knew he would like it and find something new to listen to, but also peppered on the tracklists were some familiar traditional songs.

Ronan felt his heart constrict as he stared at one song in particular on the back of a CD that he was surprised Henry knew. It stood out as if the letters were in bold, though they were no bigger than any of the others on the tracklist.

Niall Lynch had adored, above all else, making his sons laugh, and that particular Riverdance song was his favourite to make Ronan giggle to. He would imitate step dancers around the living room, the song on as loud as his old sound system would play it, every Sunday evening when he had finished with work. Declan was a little less impressed than Ronan with their father’s antics and often favoured wandering into the kitchen to help Aurora with dinner.

Ronan vividly remembered those Sunday nights though, about three years old, being scooped up by his dad, sometimes onto his shoulders where he would scream joyously at the heights he was reaching. Niall danced around pretending he was in Riverdance, the beat of percussion and pipes and fiddles getting more and more frenetic. Ronan loved that song, that stupid, wild song that made his dad come alive. That stupid song that would always remind him of Niall full of life and love and laughter. That stupid song that would instantly bring Ronan back to the feeling of being a carefree toddler, held by his father, safe in his family home.

Without realising it, Ronan let the CD’s fall gently back into their packaging, and put the whole box onto the floor beside the sofa. His eyes were a little blurry, his heart still constricted strangely, but he didn’t feel like he was in danger of a panic attack or depressive episode.

In fact, warmth and love blossomed up in his chest as he looked around at the room he was in. The furniture was different to the way it had been when he was a child, a lot had changed in the years that had passed, the people in this room were not the family he had grown up with but they _were_ , undeniably, in some sense of the word, his family.

He missed his dad like an ache in his chest, a cavity that would never be filled by anyone else; he felt the raw wound of his mother’s loss in his throat, acidic and suffocating; he missed Matthew, and even Declan, (not far away, only a few states in distance but still, separation from his brothers—his only remaining blood—at this time of the year wasn’t easy).

But, despite all this, he didn’t feel broken or empty the way he had in previous years. He let out a long breath, before allowing himself to smile softly as he finally looked up from his knees, pulling himself out of his own thoughts.

Henry looked so terrified it was almost comical, evidently he thought he had made a terrible mistake with his gift and deeply upset Ronan. Blue looked almost as concerned, whilst Gansey and Adam were both staring intently at him with their “Tell us if there’s anything we can do to help” faces firmly on.

Ronan rubbed his palms over his face, before letting out a choked laugh. “Guys, I’m good,” he said honestly with a smile, his chest warm with the concern they all had for him. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting like that, I just...got lost in my thoughts a little,” he explained, his usual facade of the emotionless badboy completely thrown aside now.

“Do you hate it…?” Henry piped up nervously, and Ronan couldn’t help another small chuckle as he shook his head.

“Nah, we’re all good, Cheng,” Ronan said, giving the other boy a genuinely friendly smile for what felt like the first time. “This was really thoughtful of you. Thank you. Seriously,” he added, and Henry smiled back at him, seeming relieved and a little surprised at Ronan’s sincerity.

Chainsaw cawed gently, a sound of agreement from Adam’s left side. Adam himself had a hand tucked around Ronan’s waist, his fingers rubbing little circles on the small of Ronan’s back that he somehow hadn’t even noticed when he was opening his gift.

“I’m fine, Parrish,” Ronan murmured to Adam when he felt anxiety and curiosity radiating from the boy next to him, turning to him and looking him in the eyes. Adam searched his face, looking for any detection of a lie; but Ronan Lynch didn’t lie.

“Okay,” Adam said after a moment with a nod of agreement, satisfied that Ronan didn’t need anything from him. They would probably talk about this later, but for now, everything was okay.

“Gansey, I’m fine,” Ronan called over to the over side of the room, because he _was_. His heart was full, and he was grateful that he had been reminded of his father at Christmas. But even without looking, Ronan could feel the gaze of his best friend boring into his, scrutinising his mood and mental health.

“Promise?” Gansey asked quietly.

“I Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Hugs and a few conversations later, the gang were getting ready for the next gift giving and a top up of drinks when Ronan noticed one more thing at the bottom of the box Henry had gifted him that he hadn’t noticed before. With a laugh, Adam peered into the box, whilst Ronan raised his eyebrows at Henry, back to his “ _You’re annoying, and I don’t like you, Cheng,”_ mood that usually prevailed, although now they both knew they were on the way to a deeper friendship.

“Oh the, um, hat is for Chainsaw” Henry said, not sure where to look. Ronan raised an eyebrow at Cheng as he dug into the gift box to find a tiny Christmas Santa hat inside it.

“Are you serious right now?” Ronan asked flatly, reaching out to grab the hat out of the box. Adam’s facial expression matched Ronan’s though a hint of a pleased smile was growing on his face. Whilst Blue was stifling giggles behind her hand, Gansey just looked bemused.

“...I didn’t want her to feel left out…”, Henry said nervously, though with a defensive note to his tone. “I felt bad after writing in the rules that she couldn’t take part.”

(Everyone else in the room knew better than to mention that Chainsaw was in fact a raven who probably didn’t have feelings about being included in a Secret Santa at all. Anyone that Ronan Lynch loved (including dream birds) was to be respected unless you wanted to face his protective side.)

“Ronan, it’s kind of cute, you’ve gotta admit,” Adam said as he stood up from the couch to pluck the miniscule hat out of Ronan’s hands, studying it with an amused look taking over his expression. “Did you _make_ this, Henry?”

“He bought it from the pet store. It was advertised as a “Santa hat for hamsters.”

“Blue! You said you wouldn’t tell him it was a hamster hat!”  
  
“You want my raven to wear something made for a _hamster,_ that’s—”

The bickering continued between the three, growing louder and louder as Gansey and Adam’s gazes met across the room and they quietly rolled their eyes at each other in mutual exasperation at their partners. As Henry made a desperate grab at capturing Chainsaw (to which she was not consenting), in order to “prove the hat would look cute”,Ronan yelled an indistinguishable sentence of swear words and the phrase “Stop assaulting my bird!”

Adam and Gansey carefully slid out of the room and into the quieter kitchen. With Chainsaw’s squawks and Opal’s screeches of excitement being mixed into the cacophony growing in the living room of the Barns it felt strangely, but happily, like a dysfunctional family gathering.

 

* * *

 

When it finally came time for Ronan to give his gift to Gansey, his nerves had accumulated into a knot of anxiety in his stomach. What if Gansey thought his gift was stupid? Too sentimental, too emotional? What if Ronan placed more value on their friendship than Gansey did now he had Blue and Henry? What if the others got curious and Gansey let them read the note? After all, everyone had gathered around to look through Henry’s scrapbook, and shared the rest of their gifts with each other.

Ronan sighed, and pushed his paranoid thoughts to the back of his mind as everyone turned expectantly to look at him.

“What’re you waiting for, Lynch?,” Henry said curiously, oblivious to Ronan’s anxiety at the current moment. Adam however was not, as he gave Ronan’s hand a very deliberate squeeze as if to say ‘It’ll be fine’. Ronan gave him a little nod and a thankful smile in reply. A silent conversation that no one else in the room noticed.

Ronan cleared his throat as he stood up to reach out for his present, wrapped in simple brown paper with a string bow tied around it, and if you looked carefully a tiny raven doodled onto the corner, with a small “ _From R xx_ ” underneath it.

“So, it’s pretty obvious I got Dick’s name since he’s the only one left without a present,” he began. He cleared his throat, coughing in a way that anyone who knew him well knew meant he was nervous.

“It might not seem like much, but I hope you like it, Gansey,” he got out awkwardly, red heat crawling up his neck at the emotional atmosphere in the room and the fact that he was about to give Gansey something he had quite literally written his heart into.

“Happy Christmas,” he said as he shoved the wrapped gift towards Gansey. The other boy gave him a kind smile and a sincere thank you and Ronan gladly went back to his place on the other couch next to Adam.

Ronan leant against Adam just a little heavier than earlier silently thanking that no one commented on the shake his hands gave when he had handed the present to Gansey. The wrapped present alluded its shape to be a box but as Gansey ran his fingers along the sides to find a decent place to pull at the tape— _did Ronan really need to use so much tape?_ —he could feel the ridges of what could have been a book. It was heavy enough for it to be a book but the way Gansey was trying to open the present he would never know.

“Do you need help?” Henry chuckled at Gansey struggling to pick at the tape. “Here,” Henry held his hand for Gansey to let him help.

Gansey sighed and let Henry use his manicured fingers to pick at the tape.

“Jesus, Lynch,” Henry huffed struggling to pick the tape. Gansey looked up to Ronan to check if Ronan was smirking at his wrapping but unlike before Ronan was not draped over Adam. Instead his shoulders had tensed to a statue besides Adam and Gansey guessed Ronan may have gifted something a little more private than a simple book.

Gansey turned to Henry who had made progress with the tape. “I’ll do the rest,” Gansey said and took his present from Henry thanking him for the help. He easily peeled the wrapping and was greeted with a beautiful leather notebook that looked almost like the Glendower journal in its birth, except this one had a beautifully engraved image Gansey thought he had seen both in Ronan’s room and on his back. It was a book Gansey had already fallen in love with.

Gansey looked up to Ronan asking wordlessly whether he could open the notebook in front of the others. They all loved one another in varying ways but they all knew Ronan liked to give his love at only the most sincere and heartfelt moments. There was clearly something written or stuck inside the notebook that Ronan did not want Gansey to share no matter who he was with. Respecting Ronan’s privacy despite the fact the leather bound notebook was his, Gansey leaned back on the sofa shifting the weights of his partners. He did his best to angle himself so neither Blue nor Henry could see the contents but there was still a risk they could peek although neither would.

Yet, it seemed Gansey had made it apparent he would (could) not share the contents of the book as Blue shifted from Gansey’s side to place the canvas on the coffee table and studied Adam’s strokes whilst Henry turned to his side and admire his scrapbook once more. Gansey felt a pang in his heart for making a scrapbook that Henry could share with the rest of the group whilst Ronan had the notebook would not be viewed by anything other than Gansey.

In another step to keep the privacy of the notebook to himself, Gansey did not look to Ronan. He did not want to expose Ronan more than he had by moving so no one else could read the contents—at the very least they would know there were words or feelings Ronan would not be sharing.

Gansey opened the notebook and tried not to hear the small inhale from across the room. The pages were a sort that looked to be recycled or was an old second-hand notebook never used. The first page simply read that the book belonged to Gansey or to be more exact: _Richard Gansey III (Dick)_.

He turned over the page and was surprised to be met with two full pages of scrawled writing. It was anything but neat and organised. There were crosses and scribbles of words and sentences that had not fit or were from a thought derailing, Gansey was not sure. Despite the mess on the pages the ink made, Gansey’s heart swelled feeling the thoughts that Ronan had pushed onto the page with some difficulty. Nothing more was needed but to savour each word scrawled on the page in a dash for thoughts to be said and done.

Gansey was not sure why, but he had assumed Ronan had written about their first meeting at Aglionby or the quiet memories they had shared at Monmouth Manufacturing as little notes on their friendship but the letter was so much more. It was more than thoughts on a page. It was more than simple expressions. It was Ronan on paper, in ink.

Only death and loss had brought Ronan’s vulnerability to Gansey but before him in written form was the exception. The ‘first of all’ of an attempt to get into the swing of writing, the list of apologies, the list of thank yous were more than words on paper, and Gansey could not help the way his heart kept catching itself more than his own death had. His vision was starting to blur at the soft words Ronan had used. He swore he could feel a tear trickle down his cheek and he blamed the Latin phrase he could not fully understand but also that he knew what Ronan meant by family.

“Sorry, I think I need my glasses,” Gansey made an attempt to excuse himself. No one made a comment nor objected from the fact he had been reading the Ronan’s letter for five minutes without problem. None voiced their prominent concerns over Gansey’s wet cheek.

Swiftly, albeit a little clumsily over the coffee table, Gansey left the room to the kitchen and pulled his glasses from his trouser pocket. He rubbed at his eyes dragging his skin hard to wipe the tears. Gansey was unsure why he had cried, though at least they were not sad tears. Of course, Ronan’s words were almost more palpable in his heart than in the notebook in his hands and they were moving but hadn’t Gansey known just how much Ronan meant to him. Ronan was his best friend, his family.

Warmth was overriding his tears and Gansey’s lips turned to the relief of a small smile.

“Found your glasses?”

The soft but deep voice called to him and Gansey looked up to see Ronan standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Gansey said and thanked he did not say more as he felt he could choke up on both the words in his throat and the words he had read.

Ronan did not make a further comment but walked over to where Gansey stood by the counter. Gansey guessed Ronan wanted to stand by him to look at the notebook he had left on the counter and stepped slightly out of the way but the step made Ronan reach for him. Before he realised Ronan had barely glanced at the notebook, Gansey was embraced in the warmth of his best friend. It was only for two seconds but it was the strongest hug Gansey cared for.

“Thank you,” Ronan said though it came out in a whisper.

_For what?_ Ronan had already listed all of his apologies and thanks in the letter as though Gansey did not know.

“Ronan,” Gansey said and only carried on when he gained his friend’s attention. “I have never thought you were ungrateful. Never do I think you don’t care for me or your friends. You’re so dear to me and my best friend.” Gansey choked on a few of his words but he hoped they showed his sincerity and did not hinder his speech.

Ronan nodded.

Gansey smiled, “I didn’t say my own thank you. Thank you for the journal and the letter.”

“It’s nothing,” Ronan shrugged, though his voice, cracking slightly with emotion betrayed the fact that it had taken _everything_ out of him to gift Gansey something so intimate.

“I thought you didn’t lie,” Gansey said teasingly.

Ronan let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck self consciously before bringing his wrist up to chew at his leather bands. “Whatever.”

“You know I’m always here for you, right?” Gansey added, voice soft and suddenly serious as he tried to catch Ronan’s eyes. “I mean it. It’s not an obligation. I don’t look out for you because I feel like I have to. I look out for you because you do the same for me. You were my first proper friend, too, you know.”

Ronan finally looked up from his leather bands. “You’ve always been popular,” he replied quietly. “You had loads of friends at Aglionby when we first met.”

Gansey shook his head, Ronan was misunderstanding the impact he had had on Gansey’s life. “Maybe I need to write _you_ a letter so you understand how much you mean to me,” he said, reaching out to give his friend a gentle, affectionate punch to the shoulder.  “Come on, we’d better not keep the others waiting,” Gansey added after a moment, sensing Ronan’s vague anxiety that was still lingering. He picked the journal up from the counter beside him and held it close to his chest.

Ronan looked at him, a little worried still, but the tense set of his shoulders mostly gone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone else read it,” Gansey whispered as they made their way back to the living room.

“Promise?” Ronan asked quietly.  
  
“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Ronan gave a smile so sincere, Gansey almost forgot that his friend could also wear teasing and dangerous smirks on the same face. In an understanding they need no longer talk about the most loving journal, the two boys made to leave the kitchen to head to the living room where the others were. After a second, though, Gansey noticed Ronan’s previously serious and sentimental attitude had turned in a second to well...laughing straight at Gansey.

“Hey, why’re you laughing at me?” Gansey asked instantly, slightly affronted.

Ronan shook his head, spluttering a little as he got his words out. “I can’t believe I _actually_ opened up to you, and the whole time you were wearing that horrific orange abomination,” he laughed, pointing to the sweater Blue had knitted for Gansey. “I can’t take anything you said to me seriously now.”

Gansey huffed, trying not to laugh himself as he looked down at his chest and picked at a loose orange thread. He knew Blue had made the jumpers for the three of them in clashing colours as a joke, mostly, but to be honest he loved the bright orange.

“It’s not horrific,” he attempted to defend, but Ronan only needed to give him a single look to shut him up. Gansey sighed dramatically.

“Why do you guys all hate bright colours so much? You’re always making fun of me for my shirts and trousers and socks, not to mention my beloved boat shoes, and—”  
  
“Okay, stop right there, Dick, “ Ronan cut in, smirking as he grabbed the cuff of Gansey’s sweater to lead him into the living room by the wrist. “You’ve reminded me of one last thing we’ve got to do.”

Gansey frowned, wondering what Ronan meant. Just before they entered into the open entrance to the living room, Gansey paused and hoped there would not be questions about Ronan’s gift to Gansey, though the other boy seemed much more at ease now and back to his normal self.

“Merry Christmas!” “Seasons Greetings!”

The cheers that greeted Gansey were unexpected to say the least. His friends were standing in a rehearsed line holding different sized packaging but using the same red and green wrapping.

Gansey blinked and it wasn’t until he realised Ronan had moved from beside him to stand with Adam, Blue, and Henry and held his own wrapped gift that Gansey managed to ask a simple, “What’s this?”

“Your Christmas present,” Blue said simply as if it explained everything. “We all chipped in to get you a special something.”

“A collaborative gift,” Henry added but it still didn’t explain anything.

“B-but why?” Gansey blinked at the gifts in their hands, not sure which one to look at (even watching Opal dart in and out of the room was easier).

They all held different sized gifts even if it was collaborate. Gansey was unsure if they had bought a different item each or had all chipped in together. How they organised themselves Gansey was unsure but his heart was swelling at the different gifts. Adam’s gift was the notable difference as it was the smallest and only hand-sized. Henry’s and Ronan’s looked to be similar sizes but they looked less sturdy than the clearly wrapped box Blue was holding.

“I—” Gansey blinked at the presents. “but Ronan just gave me his gift,” Gansey added, more of a bemused question than a statement. He knew they’d all agreed that of course Secret Santa shouldn’t stop them from buying their significant others little gifts, but Gansey had assumed the more traditional sharing of presents would be done tomorrow morning on Christmas Day. Why had everyone got him, as Henry had called it, ‘a collaborative gift’?

As if reading his mind Blue spoke up again, and stood in front of him with a smile as the smallest of the group but definitely the most self-assured when it came to being direct with Gansey. “You do so much for us Gansey. This gift does not in any way make up for everything you’ve done but we hope you like it anyway and— _Ronan_ —” Blue looked to Ronan with an almost scolding look to stop him from making a disparaging comment, before continuing “—you’re the glue that holds us together.”

Despite the lazy glare from Blue, Ronan still scoffed a “Cheesy as hell, Sargent,” under his breath, though his lips were smiling rather than pouting. Gansey had promised not to bring up the fact that Ronan’s letter to _him_ had been much more sentimental and appreciative than anything anyone else had said all day, but the irony didn’t pass him.

Gansey smiled and shook his head, looking between his friends.

Blue raised her hands that held a box the width of her torso and held it towards Gansey. “Seas—”

“No, wait, Blue!” Henry shouted a little too loudly than was necessary. He thrusted a hand out between Blue and Gansey and said, “you’ll give the game away if you gift first.”

“True,” Adam commented when Blue blinked her surprise.

“Um, okay?” Blue said and took a step back.

Henry smiled apologetically for the intrusion and gingerly held out the floppy gift for Gansey to take. Gansey set the journal Ronan had given him aside before taking the soft gift where the wrapping crunched in his hands. With ease he pulled at the wrapping and inside was a pair of bronze pair of trousers. They were slim fit and Gansey couldn’t help but smile.

“These are perfect!” Gansey said and held them against the khaki pair he already had on. He looked to his friends who wore strained smiles that Gansey couldn’t help but grin. “I love them! Wait, you didn’t have to buy me designer... ” Gansey had found the little logo of one of his mother’s favourite designers sewn by the pocket. Just when they all had talked how they cared little for money, Henry had just handed him a designer pair of trousers.

Blue bumped Henry’s arm as best she could holding the box. Henry chuckled at the way Gansey’s eyes were wide with awe and guilt that they should never spend money on him. “It’s alright Gansey. We all pitched in. To be honest I didn’t want to get you out-of-season stock but—”

“Cheng,” Ronan spoke up to stop the rambling.

“No, I mean,” Henry tried to correct himself. “Sorry, Gansey. It was just something we knew you would like.”

Gansey smiled at Henry’s fussing, but still did not know what to do. He opted to carry on. “Did you and Ronan both get me clothing?” Gansey guessed when he realised Ronan was holding a similar gift that didn’t really hold shape in his hand.

“Sadly yes,” Ronan answered with a dramatic sigh, though Blue shot him a glare Adam gave a small chuckle at his boyfriend’s comment. “Trust me, I didn’t want to buy this, but...anything for you, Dick. I honestly hope that this shows how much you mean to us,” Ronan finished as he handed the wrapped package to a bemused Gansey.

“Thank you?” Gansey replied, taking the present, not quite sure if he’d just been insulted or complimented, but at least Ronan was more relaxed about giving him this present than he had been about the journal. As Gansey ripped open the wrapping paper, he realised what Ronan had meant by not having wanted to have bought it. The thought of Ronan Lynch going into a store and going up to the counter to buy something that was so outside of his own fashion sense had Gansey smiling widely.

“Ronan, this is wonderful,” he said cheerfully as he pulled the bright salmon pink polo shirt (also designer) fully out of it’s wrapping. “Do you think it’ll look nice with the trousers?” he asked to no one in particular, going over to where he had put down the chinos Henry had got him and holding the shirt next to them. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself as though he was already planning an outfit in his head. He did not notice the others in the room cringing at the clash of the shirt and trousers paired together, but when he looked back up at them they all made sure to school their faces into careful smiles.

“Me next?” Adam chirped up, remembering the fuss Henry had made about Blue “giving the game away” if she gave her box before everyone else. “Mine’s only little, but they... make a statement,” Adam said with a sigh, evidently not too impressed with his present either.

Gansey raised his eyebrows, having some idea what the small, soft present Adam gave him could be now. “Socks!” he exclaimed delightedly as he opened the small gift. “These are gonna match the shirt perfectly,” he said as he eyed up the ankle socks that were khaki with pink spots.

“Mmhmm,” Adam hummed, resigned but laughing a little, “Lynch and I made sure the pink was the same—”  
  
“Disgusting shade,” Ronan interrupted under his breath.  
  
“ _Nice_ shade,” Adam spoke over him with a strained smile.

Gansey chuckled at his friends.

“I guess it’s _finally_ my turn,” Blue sighed and held the small box decorated in the same Christmas wrapping as the gifts to Gansey.

Gansey took the box and tried to hazard a guess to the clothing (it could only be an item of clothing considering the other gifts).

Before Gansey could guess the what lay inside the box, Blue said, “I know I complain a lot about your fashion sense but you aren’t you without them and as Ronan said you mean a lot to us.”

Gansey pulled the lid off and was met with tanned leather boat shoes. They were a brilliant rough colour that would match the trousers Henry had given him. Gansey pulled them out of the box gasping as he felt the fabric but the smell of real leather wafted and Gansey looked to Blue.

“Try them on,” Blue smiled. “I’m sure we got the right size but you can’t tell with shoes.”

Gansey did; Blue urging Gansey to wear the shoes was another treat in itself. Gansey had heard Blue’s sighs at the shoes (she had some weird footwear he had yet to comment on) but seeing her leaning against the arm of one of the chairs, waiting, brightened him. Unsurprisingly, they matched his khaki trousers but more than that, his feet fit snugly and Gansey was keen to carry on wearing the shoes for the rest of the night if they weren’t to head to bed soon.

“Don’t you dare try the rest on,” Ronan said warningly. “I don’t think my eyes can take more of the fashion parade we have here. You, Sargent, and Cheng have already burned my eyes this entire day with those awful jumpers.”

“Excuse me,” Blue raised a finger. “Keep talking and I’ll knit you one.”

“Please do,” Adam laughed and ignored the shove Ronan gave him to praise Blue on the jumpers.

Ronan huffed but said nothing further.

Gansey chuckled at his friends. How had he gained such a closeness with them in their small time. “Thank you so much guys. I love you.”

Blue moved from her spot by the sofa to almost fall into Gansey, arms outstretched. She landed in an embrace with her arms wrapped round Gansey’s torso. Just as she had wrapped her hands round him Gansey’s arms were round his partner.

“We love you too,” Blue hummed, eyes closed smelling mint and her own laundry detergent.

Not letting Blue have all the credit in saying their love for him, Henry scooped both Blue and Gansey up with a broad smile and an “I love you too!”

“You lovebirds,” Adam laughed.

“Not joining in?” Blue asked her head still buried in Gansey’s chest and jumper. Though her smile was small and her face was bright and warmth glowed, not just from Blue but from Gansey’s small laughs under Henry’s arms too.

“Of course,” Adam said, slightly jealous of Henry’s height.

Adam stepped forward but not without looking to Ronan who only held a smirk that stretched into that signature lopsided smile, and Adam realised Blue hadn’t been addressing him but to Ronan.

_Ronan “doesn’t-do-PDA” Lynch was joining in._

Adam smiled quietly to himself, unable to stop the proud feeling at how _far_ Ronan had come in terms of affection in the past year. He reached out a hand to tug the other boy closer as they both moved into the tangle of bodies that was Blue, Gansey, and Henry.

Gansey’s laugh vibrated through them, it was contagious enough even Chainsaw was squawking across the room and Opal was running to latch onto Ronan’s leg. Adam sighed at the tangle they had become but ended up laughing too.

What were they?

 

* * *

 

At some point with leftover food wrapped, dishes rinsed and placed in the dream dishwasher, and the wrapping either scrapped or folded for reuse (for scrapbooking, regifting, and Chainsaw’s entertainment), the five young adults retreated with varying degrees of tiredness to rooms Ronan had prepared prior to his friend’s arrival.

Opal was bounding for Ronan’s room, and he rolled his eyes at her as she was clearly not yet tired (probably due to the amount of sugar and wrapping paper she had consumed).

“Matthew or Declan’s room, take your pick,” Ronan said to Gansey, Blue, and Henry, knowing they would all want to sleep in the same room, but not having it in him to offer his parent’s bedroom with the only double bed in the house in it.

Gansey understood, though, and nodded, “Declan’s then?” he said easily, so Ronan had to say no more. He and Adam would sleep in Ronan’s bedroom—sharing the small bed was something they had become very accustomed to now.

As they all said their good nights and headed off to the respective bedrooms to get changed into pajamas, and into en suite bathrooms to brush their teeth, Ronan’s heart hummed steadily at the feeling of his house being full of life once more.

 

* * *

 

Waking up early on Christmas Day was surprisingly easy despite their late night. Although Ronan and Adam had stayed snuggled up in their duvet for as long as they could get away with. Adam had somehow managed to hide his canvas painting of Cabeswater for Ronan underneath Ronan's very own bed and his reaction to having his own painting was sweeter than Adam could have anticipated.

"I've been working on this for months, way before we decided on Secret Santa," Adam said softly, smiling as he watched Ronan studying the painting and moving on to open the other little gifts Adam had got him: some new aftershave, a watch, his favourite chocolates. In return, Ronan leaned over to peck Adam on the lips, a soft kind of affection that was reserved solely for when they were in private.

"Happy Christmas morning," he whispered, reaching over to his nightstand to grab his own gift for Adam: a small box with a plaited leather band inside it, gold charm of Celtic knot hanging from the bracelet. Adam sucked in a breath, emotion flooding his chest. In the next room they could hear Blue, Gansey, and Henry's voices gleefully exchanging their own private Christmas gifts.

There was no snow outside but the winter air from the farm chilled through the warm house when Gansey, Blue, and Henry decided to leave. It had been Blue that had said it was appropriate for them to leave as she expected Fox Way would be busy with the children who celebrated Christmas and for those where Hanukkah's fifth day had landed on December twenty-fourth that year, but Blue’s suggestion of their departure had been two hours before anyone had opened the front door and said their well-wishes for the holidays. They held strong promises and excitement they would see another come New Years.

“Adam, could you just help me tape this again?” Blue said, holding onto the rewrapped canvas Adam had given her.

Adam felt a little warmer, despite the cold air, that Blue had spent the time rewrapping the canvas. The rewrapped painting was for security. Blue did not want to damage _his_ painting wouldn’t get damaged before she could decide where to hang it (Blue still debated whether it should be hung in Monmouth or Fox Way). Just with everything Blue did, she took care of her loved things with care and attention that Adam swore he would wear his embroidered patches with pride and love.

Blue and Gansey had both hugged Adam but did not take offence to Ronan leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed despite his actions the previous night. Gansey, instead, patted Ronan’s shoulder thanking him for the journal with a knowing smile.

Ronan nodded in comfort but quickly moved topic with a groan and said, “Sargent, the outfit really _is_ horrendous. I would rather be experiencing the sight when Helen asks him to wear his pyjamas instead.”

Blue chuckled as she took another look at Gansey’s outfit—the one they had all contributed towards: pink and brown. “You should’ve seen him get changed this morning. His smiles are most beautiful.”

Ronan faked a gagging sound but wished the two of them and their families a good holiday. He also gave his wishes to Henry in whatever he was doing for the holidays. The three of them turned to the dream Pig.

“Oh, by the way, Cheng,” Ronan said just as Henry turned round to leave. “Nice choices.”

Henry frowned slightly, unsure what Ronan was referring to but his heart skipped when he noted the way Ronan was fiddling with the wires of his headphones rather than his bracelets. “You’re welcome,” Henry said with a nod and bid Ronan and Adam his wishes for the holiday too.

The small smiles he received from them, alike in that their lips only tugged a smile not spread, was more than enough for Henry’s chest to swell. Henry headed to join Blue and Gansey in the Pig with a smile.

 

* * *

 

Sitting stretched in the backseat of the Pig with Gansey’s scrapbook in his hand, he was unsure if the photos inside were proof of their closeness or his suggestion of secret santa had softened their distance. Secret santa hadn’t been the same as his Vancouver crowd but Henry hoped they would like to keep his tradition for the years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hugest thank you to everyone who has read this. Honestly, your comments are appreciated and dear! We hope you have enjoyed this and happy holidays !! -Maikay(Maiko)
> 
> Merry Christmas, angels! -Emi


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